“It’s not how I wanted it either! Though at least he’s not going to throw you out on your ear.” Blowing out a sigh, she looked over at him. “How /did/ you want it?” Half-shaped romantic daydreams danced in her mind, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted them to be real or feared it. A small part of her still expected that Mordred would be ripped from her life as quickly as he’d come, that he’d leave one day and never come back.
Mordred rested his head in his hands, not bothering to remove them in the least bit. “Well I’d hoped to meet him when I was fully clothed and not attacking his son or in bed with his daughter but that kind of went out the window.”
The whole encounter suddenly struck her as funny, and she started giggling, clapping her hands over her mouth to muffle it. “Oh, god,” she wheezed finally. “I don’t think things could possibly get any worse.” She tried to slide over next to him, and almost fell on her face tripping over the blanket. She gave up on it and crawled out of the fabric, putting a hand on his shoulder.