Hnn. [That noise low in his throat, the one he always uses in place of a smile or laugh when the urge to respond fails to betray his gruff, rugged exterior. He manages to sit up, at least, still weary with sleep and the reluctance to rise that comes with old age, hand falling to her thigh-- use there above the knee so as not to be improper--with a weight that's all familiar and sincere; she's under no obligation to be so patient, given the circumstances. He would expect less from anyone else, and that Isabeau tolerates it (in spite of her teasing) translates to appreciation on his part, whatever her reasons.
There's the distant sound of clattering in the kitchen, however, and he suspects she's right.] It seems I'm a fortunate man for many reasons.
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There's the distant sound of clattering in the kitchen, however, and he suspects she's right.] It seems I'm a fortunate man for many reasons.