Moonspear tell me again how rome burned

drogon watches, pleased, as she takes the hare eagerly and feels himself a little lost for breath at the dashing smile the freckled princess tosses his way. his breath, when he does take one, holds within it a slight hitch and he tries to play it off as smoothly as he can. drogon ansbjørn doesn't get tongue tied or breathless around pretty girls. he just ...doesn't. except clearly vela has that effect upon him. "good," his salmon pink tongue draws across his jowls as she informs him that her bite marks have closed and healed. "that's good." the next male ( or female ) that dared to lay tooth or claw upon vela would not live to see the next day, this he swears. there is part of him that wonders if he shouldn't chase after iliksis. hunt him down in the name of retribution ...but vela is fine and drogon doesn't want to risk endangering her by taking action into his own jaws.

drogon lets out a low, throaty chuckle as she points out that perhaps she shouldn't have told him that because he might not bring her food anymore. his lips twitch as he considers whether he wants to tease her some more or not. "i'll bring you breakfast in bed every morning, if that's what you want. injured or not." he promises, because he wanted to ...all she had to do was ask it of him. there wasn't much drogon could imagine denying her if she asked it of him if he was being honest with himself.