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.
“They could,” he tells her, raising his head to look at her, “Your father could put a sword through my gut.”
“Not without giving you the equal chance to do the same to him,” Summer said. “He’s very concerned about fairness that way. He might set you some kind of test, though … ” She paused, and thought for a moment. “He wasn’t surprised. When he came in here. Father wasn’t surprised.”