Just the idea of that sort of slow comfort makes his heart ache. It’s a familiar sort of activity, one he’d loved in the slow afternoons of his marriage when they’d settle for a while without a task - and to live that with Annie, to have her sweet weight in his lap and her hair under his nose as they relaxed together would be like a dream.

“I could read to you.” He frowned at his own words. “But my spellbooks aren’t particularly charming.”

She deserved to hear a warm tale, not about Spells With Human Flesh.

“I could tell you the fairytales of my world. I wonder, would they be the same between your earth and mine? I don’t know that about us. Annie, I want to know everything about us.”