“No, darling. You’re not in trouble,” Penelope said, laughing at the mess.
Odette stepped a little farther into the room. “And what happened to you?”
“I fell into a puddle,” she admitted, laughing again. “And so did your father. You were lucky to get out when you did.”
“I wish I’d seen that,” Odette said, giggling now as well. “You and Father both soaked and scowling.”
“I think you would have enjoyed the scene, yes,” Penelope smiled. “And don’t worry, I took all the blame. Told him it was entirely my idea.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
Penelope shrugged lightly, still drying her hair with the towel. “Well, someone had to. And between the two of us, I’m the one who should’ve known better. Now hop along, I will handle this mess.”
Odette gave Penelope one last look before walking out of the room again.
“You’re getting slower,” Alexander said, tossing his gloves to the side as Oliver flopped down on the leather bench beside the ring.
“I’m getting older,” Oliver grunted, rubbing at his ribs. “Or maybe you’re just in a mood and taking it out on me.”
Alexander had decided to meet up with Oliver for a quick sparring session. After the week he had, he needed a healthy way to release the tension.
Alexander reached for a towel, wiping the sweat from the back of his neck. “You left yourself open. Again. How many times have I told you not to do that?”
“I wasn’t expecting you to come at me like a darned freight carriage,” Oliver muttered, then grinned. “What’s going on with you? Where is all this pent up energy coming from?”
Alexander said nothing, toweling off in silence. With Oliver, he knew that the less he said was better.
Oliver narrowed his eyes, not letting go of the topic.
“If I did not know any better, I would suspect that it has something to do with your marriage,” he grinned shamelessly. “Tell me then. I’m all ears, and most eager to know.”
Alexander cast him a sidelong glance.
“My marriage is fine, thank you,” Alexander retorted. “You do not need to worry.”
“Then why are you all riled up in the ring?” Oliver grinned. “You’re not telling me something, and I know it.”
“Why are you so eager to know more about my marriage?” Alexander asked, shooting his friend a look.
“Well, I don’t have a missus of my own,” Oliver laughed. “So I might as well live vicariously through you.”
“Please don’t,” Alexander rolled his eyes.
“Come on. At least give me something.”
“It’s been… manageable,” Alexander settled on the words carefully. Though he thought back to the other day, how the both of them had been pulled into the puddle.
It was ridiculous. But a part of him enjoyed it, even though he would never admit it out loud.
“Manageable,” Oliver repeated, mimicking the tone with a smirk. “That’s the most affectionate word I’ve ever heard you use.”
“Don't push your luck.”
“Oh, I’m serious. If you start saying things like pleasant or god forbid, admit that you’re happy, I’ll assume you’ve been replaced by an imposter.”
Alexander snorted, standing to stretch his arms.
“Stop dodging the question,” Oliver shot back. “How is it, really?”
