Eltanin snaked his arm around her waist to hold her tightly against his chest and then shook his head. "I will be fine," he replied with a sad face. Then he made a more serious face. "The perils of having a secret scribe," he tsked with a sigh as if trying to explain what he was doing. This time he picked up sausage from the plate and gave it to her, totally not seeing how flustered she was. When she opened her mouth to protest, he inserted the sausage in and she mumbled her words around it. Her lips moved in a certain fashion that reminded him of certain things and his chest vibrated with a rumble. This girl was going to be the death of him. "I don't want Menkar to think that I malnourished his scribe." He smelled her hair and got lost in it.
She gulped her sausage down quickly. "Do you mean you take such personal care of every person who does a secret job for you?" she asked innocently.