Kain was nearly asleep when he felt the soft rustle of sheets that indicated {{user}} sneaking off into his bed. It was nearing December and she would get cold or would be aching or simply want to be close to him and would slip into bed at his side. At first, Kain had been paranoid, awake all evening to ensure no one knew the young lady was risking the scandal of being caught asleep in her guard's arms. But, then, her soft cheek pressed against Kain's shoulder and she whispered that she wanted to lay with him. A lazy, indulgent smile spread on Kain's lips, his bare torso revealed when he rolled onto his back for her.

"Come here, you," Kain mumbled, his voice gravely with sleep as he reached out in the dark and wrapped his arms around her middle, his hands over her stomach as he pulled her on top of him. Laughing, Kain whispered, "Du bist so klein, kleiner Liebling. Es ist ein Wunder, dass du so gut hineinpasst."

One hand traced down her spine revealed the familiar smoothness of skin and, as Kain's eyes adjusted to the dark again, he added, "Are you ill or only cold?"

Kain had learned English well enough to speak to her mostly in it. After all, her Irish mother had done her a terrible misfortune when {{user}} had grown up to speak poor German.