If you get any flattery out of me, it's done with my hands. And that's a big if.

[ they've been looking at each other naked for the past half hour or longer. his hands had been all over and inside of her. she knows her body — and yes, her backside in particular — is adored. or at least the closest thing to adored that Bigby can muster up without feeling untrue to himself.

still continuously surprised that she hasn't passed out yet, he begins to walk over to the other side of the bed in order to crawl underneath the sheets. the last woman he had in his bed was Aranea, and that was a woman who was too fatigued to do anything even remotely sexual. kudos to Rosalind for trumping a battle-hardened mercenary in that regard. it leads him to wonder why the fuck his home is a pit stop for people, but he isn't about to start bitching about company. something in him says he enjoys it. ]

I'm going to assume that is you calling me warm. Thanks, I think.

[ Bigby groans as he gets comfortable on his own back, feeling his hips and thighs were rather tender as well. nothing he couldn't deal with, but at least it allows him to appreciate the bed and its comforts equally. ]

Is that code for something along the lines of "Bigby, I want your arms around me"? I might consider it if you ask nicely.