"Mah place, you get company," he scoffed. It mighta gone either way if it were fer how she was smilin' and lookin' at him, the little catch of her eye sayin' she was wantin' trouble. He liked that she was giggling, that wakin' up from the nap hadn't left her feelin' sore or cranky fer him none. Leaning forward he found dat he was grinning right befer kissin' on her a bit more. She needed it, right? Gotta make sure she was awake enough tah walk proper. When lips broke he smiled, his left hand was catchin' the handle o' his driver's side door, "But you gotta be quiet so dat my girlfriend dun hear you come in."

A quiet giggle spilled from her lips, her nose wrinkling at his words. "...Right, because you never get company. Or have roommates." Grace needed all the kisses, and this time when he leaned forward, the tiny girl wrapped both arms around his neck, pulling herself against him across the console. She was still basically clinging to him like that when he started to pull away, to get the door open, and for half a second Grace was totally prepared to let him drag her across the seat and out with him. Reluctantly, though, she let him go, making a face at Mark before she reached for her own door, snagging her purse off the floor board. "Eh. Let's wake her up. She needs to know about me anyway. I'm a big deal, you know." Her tone playful, her big eyes sparkled with amusement.

"I dun!" he protested right before her lips locked his. Mighta kept her, tah, iffin she didn't slip from him and fer her own door. One hand gave her side a squeeze befer he popped his door open, "Yah a *big* deal yah say?" A look ovah her petite form which was sayin 'really?' as he did sah. Din he finished pushing open his door and stepped out.

Der was a time he didn't feel his back and chest pop like dat after a long car ride. Somewhere in his stretch the vertebrae between his shoulder blades gave a low little song. When he were done he shut his door, adjusting that military jacket with tha led zepplin on dah back befer he looked at her with a grin. Had tah cross ovah tah the front of the car tah grab up her hand. "Ferget tha bags, we'll get 'em in dah morn."

"Uh huh. Suuuuure." The way she said it clearly indicated that she was skeptical. Pushing the door open, the girl let herself out into the car lot, Grace rolled her eyes as she smoothed out her dress. "Oh shut up, I'm huge.? Taking his hand when he reached for her, the girl closed the door behind her at his words. There wasn't anything in those bags she needed right now more than she needed more kisses from Mark, anyway. "Works for me."

"Gotta gah tah the laundry mat in the morn, anyhow," so why unpack clothes only tah repack? He was justifying the logic o' it all jist then for her even though she weren't askin' fer it. His hand gave hers a tug sah dat they was side by side and his arm could give a wrap around her. The air was startin' tah hint at mehbe a sun rising up. Was startin' tah feel like maybe tha night were wanting to end tah soon fer him. He fished in his jacket pocket tah draw out his keys and unlock dah front door.

"Were a mistake tah let you nap. You got more wired than me sah it naht fair," he said, lookin' down at her and din openin' the door to his place.

Tugged into his side, she let go of his hand only to wind her arm around his hips, laying her cheek against the side of his chest as she sealed the distance between them. The camp was surprisingly quiet - sure it was late, but even so there was usually the sound of someone snoring or somebody just coming home or somebody getting one last beer from the community cooler or something, but tonight there wasn't. Lights on here and there, but most of the RVs were eerily quiet.

Shaking her head, Grace turned her face into his side, nuzzling into him affectionately. Maybe to dispel some of the weirdness she felt in the strange, relative quiet of the gypsy camp. An unbidden shiver slipped over her, and she burrowed closer. "...Yeah, I'm pretty awake now," agreed the girl while he fumbled with his keys. She stepped out from under his arm and through the door as soon as it was open, but turned to face him pretty much the moment she'd cleared the threshold. "Whatever shall I do to entertain myself?"

She turned in the threshold and der weren't nah inner light to brighten her. He could still see her though from the lights folks had shining offa the ends of their RVs and such. It wasn't a whole lot, jist enough tah know her face and the expression which was on it when she looked down at him. One foot set tah tha outside o' her's and din he stepped up, quite nearly kissin' her again when he spoke, "Der's always dishes, strip twister... chill and watch netflix." Chill and watch netflix were, as he took it, common code for sex. Dat was iffin he got the sayin' right.

Mark was his old coat, his thrift store clothes and the mild smell of skin and sweat on him on account o' the long drive. It were all him, though, jist as she were her. The cloth of his shirt somewhat taut ovah the chest and his green jeans loose but tied down tah him by a belt.

That pretty jingling-bells giggles spilled between them as he rose, moving into the space she was currently occupying. Grace didn't step back, slipped her hands into the space between his shirt and his jacket to wind around his waist.

As he climbed that last stair, of course, the drastic height differential between them was re-established, and the little stylist had to crane her neck nearly all the way back to look up at him, her outstretched chin resting lightly on his chest. "...close, baby. It's Netflix and Chill." More giggles escaped, her throat vibrating softly against his body. "...Strip twister sounds promising, though..."

"Ahhh, dat sah? Netflix and chill," a few nods like she was teachin' him. Tha door dat were ajar was mostly closed behind him now dat he'd gone up the stair. Some o' the outside light which illuminated her was gone, but it jist softened whut he saw.

Her hand slipped in between his coat and shirt, sah one hand rested at her waist, almost cuppin her bottom befer he grinned at her, "Yeah, jist tha two o' us playin? You got some stakes in mind?" His body nudged her's, coaxin' her back a step and further from the entrance.

The expression on his face - like he was committing this little piece of outsider slang to memory -- made her giggle all the more. Honestly, she was kind of impressed he'd picked up on the saying in the first place.

The pressure of his body against hers prompted the girl back a couple of steps, though she made no move to unwind herself from his body, her steps the staggered, hesitating childish movements of someone who can't see where they're going. Her eye brows raised into her hairline. "...you seriously askin' if we're inviting other people to play strip twister at two in the morning?" Grace snickered, lifting herself back from him just enough to drop her chin, and she nipped playfully at his chest -- catching a mouthful of t-shirt, mostly -- by way of response.

Peeling herself away from him at last, the little dancer pivoted on her toes and moved deeper into the kitchen, setting her purse down on the bench seat at the table. Her wide eyes were thoughtful. "Hm," she mused, tapping her lower lip thoughtfully with her finger tip. "What do I get when I win...? "

"Was gonna call yer bluff," he wagged his eyebrows iffin if she couldn't see it dat well. Din his shoulders made a forward tah back roll tah shed his coat and kinda make a half blind motion tah hang it back up on the u-hook by tha door. It were an old Misfits shirt tonight, the white skull printed face was cracked and the color softened into tha cloth. Jist as he was puttin his arms back around her she got a mouthful o' that shirt, "Oi, you gonna be tah fiesty fer playin' that game I think."

His hands was settled, feeling the cloth o' her dress, the turn o? that waistline when she spun away. He took tha moment tah bend down and unhook tha laces of is boots away from dah top hooks. Boots nudged off tah the side and din he was back ovah tah her. The light ovah the kitchen sink was on so it spilled some better sense of what were where. Mehbe he was calculatin' something, from kitchen tables, tah counters, tah right at her smile. "You got somethin' yah wanna win?"

Her vivid green eyes seemed to double, maybe even triple in size. "...That many? Hell, I'mma need a lot more underwear, then..." Her grin spread, and she shifted her weight to one foot, lifting the other to step out of the tiny circle of cloth her panties made. Shifting legs, she snagged the fabric in her toes, lifting it off the floor without having to break away from him. Catching that scrap in her fingers, Grace held them up for him, all pale green and scalloped along the edges, for the taking. "This month's almost over, though."

His admission - at least, it felt like something of a confession - brought a soft smile to her lips. Lifting herself up on her toes, her neck stretched, her chin tipped, reaching for a kiss. "...Which is to say... not honest at all?" There was a grin in her voice when she said it.

His fingers tangled in the line of cloth that was the scalloped edges of her panties. He made a show of half shoving them intah tha back pocket of his jeans before he broke away to reach over and set that small, dead bolt lock in place at the front door. An interruption at this point would have been... well, he wouldn't have been even the slightest forgiving of it happening.

"This month will have to be the reset." His grin appeared when he said it and din gave her a little bit o' a look over, "Yah have far tah many clothes fer it. Best tah ditch the parts you dun use or won't come tah use."

There was something about watching him make that show, his hand folding deliberately over that flimsy, girly fabric in a show of claiming it that made the muscles deep in her belly contract pleasantly. Mark reached past her to lock the door and she wet her lips with a quick slip of her tongue.

He spoke, and Grace, for her part, played dumb: Her wide green eyes were all innocent confusion, her brows arching subtly back at him. "...Far too many clothes for...what?"

"Fer yer laundry you gotta do. Gonna have to leave some stuff with me... tha dress fer sure." Dresses were a godsend tah all o mankind. Especially tha little Summer ones, the sort where in a stolen moment two folks could jist dive right into each othah without havin' tah undo a million buttons or awkwardly wriggle outta jeans. And if you was being a bit frisky in public? Tha thing didn't have tah come off so a getaway without being in yer birthday suit was possible. But beyond all that, they jist were sexy and he liked tha way they was on Grace. With her aqua hair poured down and the cloth promisin' naht tah be a problem at all? Short of jist being naked under a coat how much better could it get?

"So... wait. I'm supposed to be doing laundry naked? Won't that cause a sensation at the laundromat?" The little stylist made a point of trying to follow his logic, of assuming there was any kind of logic to his words more than a deliberately flimsy excuse to undress her. There was just a little glimmer of mischief in her eyes even as she tried to look earnest.

Even so, Grace reached behind her back, pulling at the strings that were tied in a bow to keep the top half of the sundress on her. It was one of those light cotton dresses in a blue and white pattern, the kind you get in shops by the beach that always have some Indian music playing in the background and always smell heavily of nag champa incense, the kind that also sell wards against the evil eye and candle holders shaped like Ganesha. It was the kind of dress that anybody but a gypsy would call a gypsy dress, with very little structure and almost no weight to it. The whole dress was held together and on by the crisscrossing of thin, flat straps across her back, and it was these that the gypsy wearing it was untying now.

The knot gave, and the whole garment sagged, would have fallen to the floor but for the gentle swell of her hips. Grace used her hands to push the fabric over that little rise, and then the dress was gone. "...Better?"

"Kin borrow my shirt. Might need tah be careful when yah bend ovah, tho." It was all an incredibly flimsy reason to undress her. Mark wasn't even trying to defend it that much, but the more she tried to twist and turn it tha more he felt he was jist gonna have tah tell her tah take the dress off.

Seemed, though, Grace weren't gonna give him tah hard a time about it. Der was always some uncertainty about whether or not a woman was gonna be in tha mood, couldn't jist assume that iffin you smiled right and flirted a little dat it would be enough. Didn't always work dat way, but she'd been smiling and warm tah him, and more often din naht it seemed like it were a connection they needed. His hands skimmed her sides, naht quite like a tickle but to where the tips of his fingers brushed back and forth, feelin the taunt outline o' her stomach as she fidgeted with the bows.

"Ah, but, my laundry day tah, you know," this was a flimsy excuse to take off his shirt while the last of what she were wearing unraveled. When she asked if it was better he blinked, "Yer kidding me...? It's like a thousand times bettah."

"Oh. Well. S'long as I can borrow your shirt, that'll be alright then." Grace stepped out of heap of fabric that had been her dress, pushing it aside with a quick sweep of her toes. A smile painted her face when Mark turned the same lame excuse on himself, peeling off his shirt in the process. She took another sip of her beer, the bottle still clutched in the ring of her fingers with one hand, the other reaching out to run lightly over his chest and down his belly to the waistband of his pants.

"...Good point. Guess we both gotta go to the laundromat naked, yeah?" A coquettish smile on her lips, her fingers slipped just underneath that waistband, her thumb sliding over the front button. "Means these probably need to be washed, too..."

It was a bit more honest to have such a bad excuse, at least he figured there weren't nah doubt as tah whut he were meaning. Beyond that, he liked the little smile she got when she was amused and how she kinda played with it a bit. Mark suspected that it was only Grace being otherwise focused that she didn't defeat tha whole laundry excuse with some logic.

There were something sexy about knowin' someone was lookin' at you like dat. That he saw her eyes move ovah his form, dat here was more din just approval, but want, waiting for him there behind her gaze. Past the tarot tattoos on his ribs, her fingers was sinking intah tha beltline o' his pants. That got him takin' a half step closer tah her. She had tha graceful lines o' a dancer and naht a bit o? shame tah let him look 'em over, feel 'em over. Occasionally doin' tha all with his mouth.

"Yer really damn sexy, you know," reachin' out fer her now meant his fingertips pressed into the exposed skin of her hips. But it were one hand that broke away tah try tah snag tha beer away from her.

Mark had been finding ways to undress her -- or lame excuses to get her to undress -- almost from the first time they'd really been alone together. Certainly from the time she'd given him that shave. Grace knew the excuse for what it was -nobody is that preoccupied about laundry at three in the morning - but his playfulness was one of a dozen things that made him so attractive. That boyish charm, that curious mix of confident escalation and almost bashful hesitation. The way he knew it was transparent and committed to it anyway. It was a private dance shared just between them, and one of her favorite things.

"I'm so glad you think so," she said in a hushed whisper, her talented fingers working the buckle of his belt, though she left the pinky finger tucked into the waistband itself, like she was holding her place in a favorite book. Mark moved closer, reached for her, and Grace moved closer too. The beer was plucked from her fingers, and her expression said she was maybe thinking about pouting about it, but hadn't quite committed.

It wasn't Grace's fault, really. Well, it were all her fault. It was hard tah be with her and not go from legitimate tah lame reasons fer why der should be some undressing. Was true, though. Ever since she gave him dat shave he were thinking that her wearing clothes was the thing tah be avoided. Was lucky on him she didn't seem tah mind all his efforts.

Those green eyes watched him curiously, quietly intent. She'd known before she even raised her points that it would be hard for him. It was going to be hard no matter when it happened, now or years from now, whenever the old vehicle died. He'd grown up there. His father had lived there with him. Grace didn't have the same attachment to her space - she'd been a vagabond from the start, even among her own original camp - and if it were just the emotional side of things she'd move in with him in a heartbeat.

But there was the practical side to consider, and being in charge sometimes meant needing to be practical.

"Hey, we don't have to decide right now." She said soothingly, adjusting her pelvis underneath his as he moved. Her fingers lifted from his shoulder to his head, gently running her nails over his scalp to reassure him. "It's not like we have to get rid of either one of them right away, or at all. I just think... we should think about it."

It were clear he was getting worried about it. His frame was tense and he seemed like he wanted tah agree and at the same time... was terribly uncomfortable with tha idea. Someone else living in his home. Well, it wasn't like they were selling the place or trashing it. It would still be there...

Tha right thing was said, tho. When she was sayin' it didn't have tah be decided right away, the pressure of it all seemed to lift off. Okay, he could think on it. But one way or another, they were gonna be livin' tahgether. The finger scratches up his scalp, the reassurance that there was time to think it over, pushed away the bulk of his worry and seemed tah make it like he could smile again. He bowed his head to give her a peck on tha lips, "Yah, we can give it a think fer sure." He couldn't argue with tha logic, no way around that. All he had, though, was that enormous tug of reluctance tah let go. Mehbe sometimes he was the sort that needed the push.

Grace smiled, relief in her eyes when he visibly relaxed. Lifting her head off the floor, she tipped her face in towards his to brush a light kiss over the slight stubble of his cheek. "I'd live in a tent by the city dump with you, Mark. The important thing is that we're together, wherever we end up." She kissed him again, closer to the corner of his mouth this time, before she settled back.

"In the meantime, maybe we crawl into your bed and watch a movie?" She was thoroughly enjoying the weight of his body on top of hers, but it was getting to be extremely late and she didn't figure falling asleep on the kitchen floor was good for either of them.

"I hear dat the prices o' those tents is outta control, now," it was a playful response, which was his habit. Mark tended tah give offhanded and lighthearted retorts. That might have been habit from da or the grooming of someone who dealt with too many problems going on. It was best notah let someone get worked up and think that their issues were the end of the world and needed blood.

She mentioned crawling into the bed and he nodded, quickly. His hands pinned on the ground ovah her head and din he pushed up, like a bridge ovah her. Their connection severed in a way that kinda hurt but still was feeling sexy. Like he got one more reminder of heaving bodies and bein? spent jist before the separation. On his knees, lookin' at her legs spread towards him when he said, "Whut movie?"

Time tah quit staring. He got tah his feet, both hands offered down tah her.

Grace laughed quietly, shaking her head. Very familiar with that tendency of his now, she couldn't help thinking about how it was one more thing that distinguished him so drastically from the other leader whose bed she'd once shared. The comparison was on her mind again lately- much as she tried to avoid it- because Aunt Rally had brought it up the first time she got Grace alone after it had been made known that the girl was handfasted to Mark. You got a thing for men in charge, don'tcha girl?

Shaking her head to clear her mind, Grace raked her fingers through her hair, squirming just a little when the Gypsy King pulled away. Laughing in earnest when he decided to help her, she pulled herself upright at last. Hands were offered down to her, so she took them, using his weight to lift herself to her feet and into his arms once more. "Mm. Something funny."

"Anythin' fer tha Queen. Tha Not-Queen?" He restated with minor correction. Then she was standing, both their pale figures marked with the red blushing from sex. There were gently red half-moon shapes of where teeth had tried its will against skin. His hands was still holding her's when she stood up, loosenin' only tah catch her figure against his form. Tha suggestion of tha movie in mind made him smile as he stepped backward, tuggin' her along tah the steppin? spot which lead up tah his bed.

"Ladies first," a motion. Beyond that, a selfish enjoyment o' the view. He had to stretch, catch and snag the ipad befer crawlin' back up tah her. Naht a problem tah jist sleep naked under tha sheets with her.

That pretty giggle spilled from her lips and she leaned forward, pressing a wet kiss to the left side of his chest. "M'Queen to you and Not-Queen to everybody else," said the girl with a playful grin, and she followed him to the ladder without much prompting.

No thought was given to her discarded clothes - or his for that matter - as she climbed those few rungs at his suggestion. Grace knew perfectly well that his desire to have her go first wasn't strictly rooted in chivalry no matter what he said, but she went anyway, letting him look. Mark was spot on about that -- there was something about having someone look at you like that, desire and appreciation still there no matter how many times they'd seen it before.

Once she'd made it onto the mattress, Grace crawled underneath the covers, plumping the pillows and straightening the sheets here and there until he'd joined her. As soon as he'd made it into bed beside her, the girl would be wiggling her way back into him, seeking that static-cling connection.

"Oh yeah?" he grinned at her bit about tha titles that they liked to play around with. And when she ascended those few stairs he was watching her, bitin' on his lower lip at the final angle. Once they were both up in that little cavern-like bed space, he was quick to find a place to snuggle in behind her. One of his feet was curled partly around her's, the ipad was propped up on the mattress. He had an arm under her neck, his free one outstretched and swiping over tha screen tah find somethin' good tah watch.

"Dis one is pretty silly but..." he shrugged a bit and double tapped on the movie title "Cabin Boy." The opening credits of maps and fish started to rolled befer he kissed her cheek. They was wrapped in each other, all right, and hopefully she would forgive the selection.

A little shrug rolled over her shoulders. "Y'always tellin' me you 'ain't nah King," she replied, mimicking his speech pattern almost perfectly. "But you are to me, so. Makes sense, yeah?" She twisted around to kiss him on the nose before settling in against him.

"Cabin Boy, huh? I don't think I've seen this one..." Using his one arm like a pillow and the other like a blanket, she settled in to watch the movie, little suspecting what madness she was about to be subjected to.