I bite my lips together. A thousand blunt-edged responses dance through my thoughts, sharp and unrelenting, but I hold them back. It would be a lonely evening if she left.
And while she’s here, I can look after her.
"So how would you phrase this…?" she trails off.
“Yes?”
"I want to say that I want someone who will stand beside me, not just expect me to follow."
I smirk. “So… 'I seek a man who won’t mistake me for a decoration'?"
Arlet rolls her eyes. "That sounds combative."
"Good. It’ll weed out the weak ones,” I grin up at her.
She bites her lip.
“Very well.” Then she produces a piece of charcoal from her robe pocket and scribbles down notes.
“All right. Now, there will be men who only see my status. How do I phrase something that makes it clear I won’t tolerate that?" She looks up at me and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
I think for a minute.
“Try 'I am not a stepping stone. Walk over me, and you’ll fall off a cliff.'”
Arlet laughs and the sound is sweet. It’s one of the only times she’s ever laughed at something I’ve said. "You enjoy this, don’t you?"
"I enjoy watching you consider hurting me,” I say without thinking, my ears eager to be graced with another laugh.
She merely smiles. Then writes again. After, she taps her lips.
“Anything else?” I ask, thinking about the list of words.
One prompt in particular,sexual preferences, returns to my thoughts.
I won’t ask about that.
Shouldn’t ask about that.
I suck in a sharp breath, and she speaks, graciously breaking me out of my buzzed thoughts.
“You’ll laugh at the next one,” she says.
Straightening, I shake my head. “I will not.”
She purses her lips.
“I want children. As many as I can have. But I—” she breaks off. Her face turns away, as if she were hiding something. She clears her throat. “I—I don’t want someone to justuseme for that."
Like Arion. Fucking prick.
Her words both stun me and don’t. I could picture her as a mother as easily as I can remember her scooping up children and playing childish games. The shock comes when I think of her with a rounded belly.
That sight… I swallow.
"Then don’t. Say you want a partner in building a home, that you’re not just a womb to fill."
"That’s blunt,” she says quietly.