[ She is soft again, now, having been gently disentangled from the beast of her terror by the simple truths she did not want to hear lending weight to those she does; by his hands on her, his reach for her, the new idea that perhaps I'm still here actually does mean something. ]

So shall I, for you.

[ Alexandrie lifts the hand that presses his to her cheek so she can reach for the side of his face to stroke it with light fingers. ]

I do not keep you for a placeholder, or love you only for the form and voice you share. Should my lord come back to me, he shall find himself obliged to make room.

[ A lean to touch their noses, then farther, fingertips tracing the line of his jaw as she presses her lips to his for a slow and lingering kiss. Murmured there after: ]

But I have greeted you poorly.

Shall I arrange you a bath? [ Her hand wanders from jaw down neck to spread fingers on Loki's chest. ] Or welcome you home properly?

[ The passing of the tumultuous wave in the ocean of her leaves room for her to remember in the lull that a week had been too long a time of having hands that were not on him, and she is not too sleepy to want. ]

Both?