Part 2:
link Arthur wanders into the kitchen, clad only in his jeans, curious. “What are we having?”
“Fried eggs and potatoes, fruit, and scones.”
“Mmm,” he leans over her shoulder from behind, peeking at the frying pan she is tending. “Smells good,” he says, s’embrasser her neck again. “And the food’s not bad either.”
She laughs and lightly shoves him, “Don’t start that again ou we’ll never eat.”
He sits at the small table, plopping down like a child...
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