Northstar Vale five car garage

he expects her to still be a little mad, at least -- but either she's quicker to move past moods than he is (and to be fair, it's not hard), or those mysterious things hormones are at work. "oh," delight squeaks, gaze flitting between queenie's face and body quickly. "that, i guess, that makes sense," he continues, trying to sound more confident than he feels and failing. queenie's right, though: he is the guy in charge, even if he's doing a terrible job of it. 

maybe this is what he's supposed to do. clearing his throat, the morwinyon straightens up slightly, pulling together the frayed bits of his emotional state into something that can at least fake competancy for now. "right," he says, more to himself, and then, "of course. uh... first, though, i'm sorry about -- before. you did what you were supposed to do and i shouldn't have gotten worked up." there. cool. week(s) of agonizing solved. ahem. "so, what, er, what do you want to do about. this." the words come out faintly strained, his eyes inadvertently drifting back down as he talks. delight's not really... he's never really thought about, you know, women, but... he's never been so close to a girl in heat before, and boy. that smell, huh? he kind of gets it. his conversation with queenie about kids suddenly replays -- or specifically, queenie's voice (oddly sultry in the memory, ha?) going 

you're running the show around here, it's normally your type that gets all serious about breeding and such.

he swallows. no, no, don't be silly, that can't possibly be what's going on here. haha. ha. hell.