“It’s simple really,” the Master says flatly, rubbing the ball of squirming Flesh between his fingers, “…when you think of it in this way, he’s like an overlarge pet boogie. You just roll him back and forth, like so…”
The ball of Flesh squeaks in audible annoyance and melts into gooey liquid, attempting to escape the Master’s smoothing fingers.
“Oh, leave him be, Koschei!” says Flaminarixodaparcaftion as she struts long hands through the Master’s jambalaya blond hair. “There’s dirt in your hair. Do you want a shower? Or do you want to see him first? I asked you once already…”
The Master sighs and grabs her bum, to which a silvery a-line strapless gown is now fitted quite nicely indeed, and so soon after the corset she greeted him in.
“Shut up phone sex, I’m deciding.”
“Stop being vulgar.”
“Stop being so damn attractive. Ungrateful whore.”
“Well, I guess you could visit him later. Rosette informs me he’s sleeping just now, anyway.”
Did she just dismiss him? God damn it. She’s just like her mother! Father. Birth-giving parental unit.
“Thank the gods for that. I thought he’d never give me any peace.”
“Shut up and kiss me you uncouth idiot.”
“Stop ordering me around, or I’ll make you regret the day you were…”
Born. Hold on. Did she say sleeping?