[May Bruce never learn that Scatty had been worshiped in that way; he has enough trouble wrapping his mind around her as it is.

He closes and locks the door before turning to follow her, and he's not too proud to admit that he has a long moment of wondering what her bare back would feel like under his hands.

A long moment that he banishes, rubbing his palms on his jeans and clearing his throat.]

Can I get you anything to drink? We have some time before the nasties come out to play, might as well enjoy it now.