The softness of his mouth are on hers, the warmth she had come to associate purely with him and the curl of his fingers at her shoulders leaving a happiness warming through her she swore she could feel down to the tips of her fingers and toes. She could not stop smiling. Could not stem the happiness of the moment and in offering up to the sugar and color, did not want to.

She peered around him at the game he spoke of, pushing playfully at his shoulder for his teasing words. "I am not getting paint in my hair, d'Artagnan." She thought of informing him how much work it took to deal with hair that fell past the small of her back, or of how much time she needed to half tame its curls. "I may just need to find a bandana like Porthos always has."

The idea of it, of an activity in echo of Musketeer training was appealing, but no more than d'Artagnan's company. There seemed to be so many options that her head near spun with it. "Which would you like to do?"