21.Aug.19, 11:15 AM
N’mor clucked his tongue against his teeth, silently scolding Mylorah for taking so long to issue her comeback at his quip, grey eyes sparkling as he twirled her around. Catching Z’rin’s eye over the top of the swirling lady, N’mor rolled his eyes with a small smile, before turning his attention back on Mylorah and laughing when she brought up the topic of Z’rin, and he snorted. “I’m sure I couldn’t stop you,” he teased, lifting his eyebrows up pointedly. The idea of trying to stop Mylorah when she got something in her head seemed rather dangerous. Not that N’mor was against danger, but rather that he preferred to pick his fights.
A laugh was startled out of N’mor by Mylorah’s coy quips about not keeping her hands to herself while she was dancing with Z’rin, and N’mor shook his head, smiling wryly. “I’m not particularly worried,” he drawled, tugging Mylorah close and spinning her around before wrapping his arm around her waist and trapping her playfully. “Better be careful though,” he teased, his tiny playful smile turning into a wicked little smirk as he leaned forward and whispered against her ear, “he’s been a bit broody…” N’mor quickly stepped back, pulling Mylorah along with him, so he could smirk at her expression.
While N’mor absolutely adored Zararin, and the couple of times Z’rin had mentioned future children in passing hadn’t sent N’mor fleeing for the hills (mostly because the times they came up tended to involve nakedness and delicious sex) N’mor had never actually answered Z’rin’s little comments. That didn’t mean he hadn’t heard them, though, and while he really didn’t want Z’rin to come home with a baby he’d stolen off some lady in the Weyr (he wouldn’t be surprised, honestly) he wasn’t against the idea. But like, in the future. When he was at least as old as R’nd… So like, Old. N’mor smirked to himself, slightly saddened he was teasing Mylorah and not her father at that particular moment.
A laugh was startled out of N’mor by Mylorah’s coy quips about not keeping her hands to herself while she was dancing with Z’rin, and N’mor shook his head, smiling wryly. “I’m not particularly worried,” he drawled, tugging Mylorah close and spinning her around before wrapping his arm around her waist and trapping her playfully. “Better be careful though,” he teased, his tiny playful smile turning into a wicked little smirk as he leaned forward and whispered against her ear, “he’s been a bit broody…” N’mor quickly stepped back, pulling Mylorah along with him, so he could smirk at her expression.
While N’mor absolutely adored Zararin, and the couple of times Z’rin had mentioned future children in passing hadn’t sent N’mor fleeing for the hills (mostly because the times they came up tended to involve nakedness and delicious sex) N’mor had never actually answered Z’rin’s little comments. That didn’t mean he hadn’t heard them, though, and while he really didn’t want Z’rin to come home with a baby he’d stolen off some lady in the Weyr (he wouldn’t be surprised, honestly) he wasn’t against the idea. But like, in the future. When he was at least as old as R’nd… So like, Old. N’mor smirked to himself, slightly saddened he was teasing Mylorah and not her father at that particular moment.