For a moment, we are both mirrors of another another; smirks, small grins shared between us before I saunter forward a stride, daring her forward. Small games - push and pull, give and take. I'm not surprised to find out she had no intention of leaving the den - why should she? Even Enoch had begun to accept it as his mother's home though his presence was still few and far between, seemingly entertained by his own schemes. Yet I do admit that I am a little surprised at how content I am to have my suspicion confirmed explicitly. There is a sense of excitement about having been claimed without my full awareness. How long had she been planning it? Was she likely to sneak into the den even without the children?

"So you will stay in the den," I muse to myself as I pivot to face her, dancing back a pace or two to tempt her forward as my head swings down, "but what about by my side, consiliario?" I smirk at the pet name - advisor? It seems an understatement. At least, there is hope it will become an understatement. I dance back another stride and nip the air between us; there is a tension within me that I feel will not subside until I know for sure.