You groaned, curled up on the couch as another cramp hit.

Alastor leaned over the backrest, his grin as wide as ever. “Ah, suffering from nature’s favorite little inconvenience, are we, dear?”

You glared up at him. “Go away.”

“Oh, but why would I do that when I can help?” He twirled his cane, making a blanket appear out of thin air. With an exaggerated flourish, he draped it over you. “For the delicate, ailing lady!”

You peeked out from under the blanket. “Did you just call me delicate?”

“Well, you are curled up and pouting like a tragic heroine.” His smirk grew. “Tell me, how much teasing before you start throwing things?”

Without hesitation, you grabbed a pillow and hurled it at him. It smacked him square in the face, and with a startled noise, his monocle slipped off and tumbled into his lap.

Silence. Then, he let out a low chuckle, adjusting his monocle with a grin. “Aha! A surprise attack! You do have fight in you.” He gave you a playful wink. “But do be careful—I’d hate to start wearing protective gear around you ladies.”