The low ache between her thighs intensifies at the pair of questions and how Gideon looks as she asks them; patient and hopeful, golden eyes alight under the careful disarray of her hair. "Help me into your lap," she says, amazed by the steadiness of her voice. Keeping her hold on Gideon's hand, she shifts until she's perched, bird-light, in Gideon's lap, her knees at either side of her cavalier's hips beneath the cover of the blanket.

Biting her lip, she looks at her. "Good so far?"