Bedroom, Theodore mansion.
Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.
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As they laid in bed, Theodore on his back with Lydia in his arms, her legs swung over his, and his large palm rested on her thighs, his pinky swiping leisurely left and right.
Lydia looked up at him through her lashes, "How did you get to have conan as your person?"
"He was sent to kill me by my step mother" Theodore dropped.
"He failed" she mumbled, her fingers making circles on his chest.
"Without doubt" Theodore let out but he didn't sound as cocky as the words interpretted. "He never did try to hurt me, he hated her" he added.
Lydia laughed. "She must've been too arrogant to not notice" her opinion.
"Her intelligence is not something to go by" Theodore confirmed.
"Gooseberry I should have protected you better" Theodore said suddenly, solemnly.