Vesper grabbed the sheets and placed them by the entrance to the clinic. Heading back to grab the sheets they’d just messed up, and stripping that bed as well. She added a few other bits to the washing pile, grabbing some used clothes and what not from around the beds. She could hear Oleander doing something in his room. She wasn’t sure what, exactly. He had gotten up, and gone straight there. Oh dear, he wasn’t having a meltdown was he? She paused, pricking her ears. Was he moving furniture around? She wrinkled her nose, and shook her head. Boys were weird.

He came out of his room, and grabbed her coat. That grabbed her attention, and she paused, cloths in paw as she squinted at him and her bed. He dragged it to the back and then started moving cabinets around. He’d lost it. Oleander had officially lost the plot. Oh dear. What was she going to tell the Warlord? ‘Sorry, I slept with your lead healer, and he immediately lost all his brain cells.’ Yeah, that would go over well.

She somewhat cautiously chucked the cloths to the pule, and Oleander suddenly called out. Telling her she… had her own space. She trotted over to inspect what he’d done. He made a room behind some cabinets, and placed her bed into the spot. That’s what he was doing? He woke up post-sex and decided to do some redecorating? And... maybe... if or when you want to, we can share in the den. Her heart knotted up suddenly with worry. Had this been a mistake? Maybe men really were utterly unreasonable when it came to sex. Once they had it, they couldn’t live without it. “If that’s what you want… Master Oleander.” she said neutrally, still trying to collect her thoughts and figure out Oleanders angle.


"Speech"

He watched for any inclination of her inner thoughts, but it seemed she had placed a careful mask over what he had come to know as her uncertainty. And she rarely called him Master unless she was being cautious.

He waved a paw, trying to brush away her uneasiness, "I've been meaning to give you your own space for a while. This way you are still close to the job and all that." He said with a shrug. Then turned to her, "Now, I gotta schedule you for your fight lessons! I've been sitting on my laurels long enough!" Maybe he could have his dad stand in for him sometimes if he couldn't do a lesson with her every day. He moved about the room with frenetic energy, "We gotta get you strong so we can kick your sperm donor's ass." He supplied with aplomb, adding an old bandage to the pile by the door. He was in good spirits! Suddenly he had more energy at this time of day than before!

As he finally glanced at her he recognized the look she was trying to hide. She was trying not to look at him as if he had grown three heads and accuse him of witchcraft.
He grew suddenly self-conscious and looked down as if he were a kid getting caught with his paw in the pig ear jar.
"What?" he asked sheepishly.

"Speech"