[ Ah. They really are going to do things properly this time, then. No more half-hearted excuses for restraint and for leaving her a cold, quivering mess. She wonders just which of them he thinks he's fooling — if he thinks he's fooling either of them at all, at this point.

Liar. she thinks again. But she doesn't bother saying it. There's no point, when both of them know.

She eases herself back, flat onto the floor. Her hair's still damp, clinging to her bruised and bitten neck and the dark wood floor is cold under her bare skin. But she doesn't flinch. One hand curls back from around his neck and slowly, almost dreamily, she brushes the dark hair from his forehead. It suits him better like this, she thinks. ]

Yes. [ She smooths a lock of hair behind his ear. The tips of her fingers skim his jawline too — she's realizing now that she's never been permitted to touch him before and now she desperately wants to. ] I was wishing for it as hard as I could when I summoned you. Because it's true — I'm underhanded and dirty. As people go... I'm hopeless. The only thing I've ever known how to do is tell pretty lies that make people happy.

[ She's cradling his face now — one thumb smoothing over the crest of his cheek. He makes such ugly faces like he's trying to cover it up, but... from this close, his eyes are so, so lovely. ]

But you came to find me. You came to see me. And I've been wishing for that before I ever knew about the Grail. So... please touch me.