Marx's hands fluttered again. "I'm sorry! I'm sincerely sorry! You want a written statement? Or…" He yelped as his heel caught an exposed root and nearly sent him sprawling.
Dimitri stopped, finally, coming into view so close that Marx actually had to tip back his head to maintain eye contact.
There was a brief, tense moment where Felicity thought Dimitri might actually throw him into the water.
Instead, he leaned in, whispered something too soft for Felicity's ears to catch, and Marx's whole body went slack, his ears drooping in instant, worried submission.
"What do you think he said?" Felicity whispered, curiosity piqued.
Lucan's lips pressed against her temple, a silent, proprietary kiss. "Knowing Dimitri? Something that'll keep Marx up for a week."
They both watched as Marx, reprimanded and grumbling under his breath, trudged back toward the fire pit and started poking at the embers with the burnt end of a stick, all the joy wrung out of him.
