“Or perhaps I just like invokin’ that Scurry tongue of yours. It comes out when you’re mad.” I aimed a quick jab at his stomach, which he caught easily. “Lord,” he muttered, fingers slipping around my hand again. “We need to teach you to fight properly, darlin’. Surely, they breed quicker hands in Scurry.” He gave another of those barely suppressed smiles, the ones that he’d failed to fight back.
