"Ahem... Sylvaris, should I take the ground then?"
They stood there, frozen in the doorway, staring at the single bed like it was a cursed artifact. The room itself wasn't exactly inviting—cramped, musty, a thick layer of dust clinging to the corners, and the floor… gods, the floor looked like it had been used in a ritual sacrifice. Mold, cobwebs, and some suspicious white stain by the corner that neither of them dared to acknowledge. Iselynne spoke up quickly, her voice trembling, trying to offer herself as tribute to the floor gods, but Sylvaris sighed and cursed whatever idiot god was laughing at him from above.
"Let's share the bed," he muttered, the words barely audible, his voice cracking like a teen boy hitting puberty again. Very unlike him. The same man who'd throatfucked a sorceress against a pillar and pounded a fox girl until her legs gave out… was now too nervous to ask a girl to sleep beside him.
"That way we'll both be happy."
