"And are you the pot, or the kettle?" She teased from inside the embrace, leaning, forked tongue flicking in clear amusement. But when he dropped his arm, her attention flit away, almost regretfully.

She put a short stride of distance between them, watching the sea, returned the glasses atop her head.

"If she agrees, you need only give me a date, time, and place. And... and of course, if there's anything she should need... or that you should need to see to her care, her happiness," she spared a look to him again, her meaning clear.