( it is eventually none of those things that actually stops them from indefinitely curling up around marcus like particularly well-read, mostly-blonde bookends—though it is among them, because petrana is no more immediately inclined to move from where she lands. she couldn't confidently assert, however, if it's five minutes or fifteen or longer between that hazy, very good moment and the way her eyes snag on the window and the height of the sun and— )

Silver, ( she says, abruptly, using one hand directly flattened on julius's pectoral to lever herself up from the bed.

she is suddenly a flurry of movement and fabric, a wet cloth dragged briskly between her legs and some fewer than the number of layers they removed from her hastily laced back on, the effort to right her hair not very successful. there are kisses, marcus and then julius and then the dog (their mouths; his forehead), and: )

I have an appointment—I will be back—I would very much like us to do that again, and in fact exclusively—Julius, tell him, I am going to be late—