Quite purposefully, she slipped a little closer, flirting a little. “So, what kind of wife shall I be? Make sure you’re fed? Polish your armour, sharpen your sword? Shall I stay home and keep your house, or shall I ornament your arm and give you my favour for tournaments?”
The knight chuckled, his cheeks reddening slightly. “You can be whatever wife you so choose to be, I am not fussed. I clean my own armour and expect no one to do it for me,” he tells her with a small smile. “But you may do as you wish, I’ve never been good at this I should forewarn you.”
“What /this/?” she laughed. “/This/ is a week of whatever you’d like from me. Let’s have a little direction here, Sir Knight.” Summer took one of his hands, interlinking her fingers with his. “Otherwise,” she murmured, “I’ll give the direction, and you’ll obey.”