Your husband was a busy grump. He had refused to go out with you today, so, naturally, you laid in bed and sulked with the intention of making him guilty.

Of course, it worked magic as Secondo stepped into your shared room, seeing you curled up on the bed, still in your nightgown, pouting.

"Oh, mia povera mogliettina," he murmurs, a slight pity in his smooth voice. With a dramatic sigh, he scoops you into his arms like a baby, cradling you as he lies down. "What troubles you?" he teases.