Pot and Kettle

[font=Arial, serif]Hips bucked under the water, the water lapping at the edges of the tub with the disturbance. Aoife just managed to keep the sound from herself just to a sharp inhale, eyes catching that tug to his lips. The bastard. Already knocked off balance with the intrusion she should have expected the cheeky jab, she’d quite literally pulled and landed him in this situation. A little revenge was warranted, but later, not while the woman was mere feet away. [/font]

[font=Arial, serif]Any other time she might have found the scolding endearing, especially since the bulk of it didn’t involve any shots at her. Until of course the topic of small princes and princesses came up. Aoife couldn’t suppress the groan, a quiet, [color=#0074d9][font=Arial, serif]“Oh gods,”[/font][/color] and once again dipping back under. The thought of briefly drowning herself to escape this sheer torture flickered through while clearing the remaining soap out of her hair. [/font]

[font=Arial, serif]She remained silent once resurfacing, until Bodil left, the woman’s footsteps fading into the distance. [color=#0074d9][font=Arial, serif]“I’m… never going to hear the end of this, am I?”[/font][/color] her face fell into her palms, a soft chuckle playing out despite nothing about the past few moments being remotely amusing. She could feel tension returning, their moment now gone, ruined by her inexperienced panic. [color=#0074d9][font=Arial, serif]“Would… you pass me the towel, please?”[/font][/color] She’d ask, finally uncovering her face to squeeze the excess water out of her hair.
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