( Wrath's gaze draws over her as she makes herself at home on his lap, as her fingers grip to his shoulder. He remains still and steady at her words as if he could possibly remain so still to never move at all.

His gaze draws over her neck from up close and then up to her lips, and finally, his hand rises. The palm of it presses tot he low of her back and then into the fabric of what she wears. )

Plot the slow demise of our enemies for one?

( A low murmur, a tiny smirk )

Enjoy a meal only you made, share a bed that is ours- ( His voice cuts off as the last time they did she poisoned him after all - His dark gaze lifts to her face ) Would you want that?

( Would she choose it? Choose him? )