“Rwy’n flin, I didn’t mean to.” Contritely, she kisses the bite. “Not to torment, then?”
Mordred smiled. “I know you didn’t, if you want to torment me go ahead, but the whole biting the ribcage-” He shakes his head.
“Rwy’n flin,” Summer says again. She slides back up alongside him and rests her head on his shoulder. “I’ll be good.”