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[ He's not saying he's been without compliments. But the lasses he has spent time with don't spend too much time talking to him about his hair. Neither do the ones he just knows in passing. But he's not sure he knows what she's speaking of. Not really. ]

All they'll have is their clash now.

[ If you're going to fit in, Claire, you've got to know how. ]

They certainly wilnae be gettin' the specifics from me.

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Claire shakes her head with a laugh.]

What?

[Sometimes it's like he's speaking another language entirely. Because he is.]

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Their clash. Their gossip.

[ She's lucky he went to school in Paris. Sometimes it seems like she's speaking her own language herself, but sometimes he can make sense of it. Especially when he's familiar. ]

What do they say? Should I be worried?

[nineteenfortyfive]

No. They were all good things, if not a little crass.

[She's done a good job of combing his hair back with only her fingers, and then her hands move to his face, on either side. He'll come to learn she likes touching his face. Most kisses, at least, involve a touch to his cheek.]

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Have ye been talking crassly about me to other lassies, Sassenach?

[ He has come to terms with the touching. He likes it. Though she has absolutely no problem making the first move with him when she likes there's that gentle part of her. The one that combs her fingers through his hair and strokes his cheek. The one that looks him right in the eyes when he's inside of her. It leaves Jamie feeling like he's gone and left his body. ]

[nineteenfortyfive]

[It shouldn't be so easy to look him in the eye at all times. Every time she does it, she sees something new, something that makes her... happy, simply. At ease. Just like now.]

Never. Sorry to disappoint you.

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Ah. So, ye just listened then did ye? I see.

[ Poking fun at her has become a lot easier. But he knows that she'll usually always have a response of some sort. Something to lob back to him without even breaking a sweat. His wife is mouthy like that. ]

[nineteenfortyfive]

Mrs. Fitz had some detailed expectations of what was under your clothing.

[She grins at him, fingers playing with the hair by his ear. She might not be making that one up.]

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[ He wasn't quite expecting her to offer up that information. But then again that's just Claire for you. Constantly finding ways to kick your feet out from underneath you in the most interesting way possible.

It's difficult to say, but he certainly looks confused by this. ]

Truly?

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Oh, that face. Hard to believe sometimes he was a mercenary, a solider in a war. Claire laughs, having to turn away, and covering her mouth with her hands so she doesn't wake up the whole building.

And yet? No answer.]

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[ He wasn't the best mercenary money could buy, Claire. He's allowed to be confused and a little nervous when she informs him that Mrs. Fitz is going about talking to people about what goes on underneath his kilt. He's never going to be able to look her in the eyes again. He's certain.

When she starts to laugh he frowns. More confused. ]

Ye just being cruel now. Did she say those things?

[nineteenfortyfive]

And betray my own sex? Shame, Jamie.

[Though the increasing laughter might clue him in. She can't look at him.]

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[ The laughter does absolutely nothing. It could mean she's telling the truth or lying to taunt him. Either way it just makes him more flustered. ]

As yer husband ye should want to tell me. Come now.

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Oh, this poor young man. Claire laughs more, and slowly tips onto her side on their makeshift bed, rolling herself off his lap.]

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[ He's looking more and more red faced as she continues to laugh. Refusing to tell him anything. He's starting to feel more like she's laughing at him. ]

Are ye laughin' at me, Claire? I dinnae find it very funny.

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Unfortunately, she finds that adorable. Her laughter continues, hair sticking to her face, though soon it subsides enough for her to speak.]

I find it hilarious. Where did your sense of humor go?

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[ He has a sense of humor. It's just better to be aware of what the thing is that has her laughing so. He could handle it when she laughed at him when he thought the only way to have sex was the back way. Because even he knew it was foolish once he said it. But she won't give him a straight answer about Mrs. Fitz. ]

Ye hinnae told me why I should be laughin' though. Did she not say such a thing? Is that why ye cannae stop?

[nineteenfortyfive]

If you could see your face, you'd be laughing.

[Still not answering anything, Claire.]

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[ At this point he doesn't think he'll ever get a full answer from Claire. Which is why now that she's on the bed and off his lap he can move in properly. His fingers moves to press to her sides and he starts to tickle. If she's going to laugh she at least deserves a real reason to be laughing. ]

[nineteenfortyfive]

Jamie!

[It's a loud yelp amidst renewed laughter, and while she squirms, there's no real attempt to escape him. Her skirts tangle around her legs. There's no escape even if she wanted--he easily dwarfs her.]

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If ye going to laugh, Sassenach, ye should have something to laugh at.

[ He doesn't care if her laughter echoes throughout the inn. Maybe it'll disturb Dougal and the others. But it's not as if they haven't disturbed Jamie in the past with a woman. Besides they're hardly doing anything.

Jamie does lean down closer as his fingers continue to wander and tickle. He's all smiles now. Funny how that works. ]

[nineteenfortyfive]

[But she did have something to laugh at: his face. Claire tries to lift up, trying to steal a kiss. And maybe distract him with it.]

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[ She's a clever woman, his wife. It's one of the reasons he loves her. She knows about Jamie's want. His desire. He's expressed it enough. She'll certainly try to use it against him by trying to pull him down into a kiss.

He could pull away. But he doesn't. Instead Jamie leans down to kiss her. ]

[nineteenfortyfive]

[Better. She breaks the kiss to catch her breath, the tickling stolen much of it, and then her lips are on his again. Her hands move down his back, feeling him, undeterred by the scars or how her fingers catch on the particularly deep grooves in his flesh.]

Do I need to be forgiven?

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[ Whatever ideas or notions he had in his head before do seem to melt when he's this close to her. When her lips are on his and he can practically feel her own heart beating against his chest. It makes his blood run hot. She has this way about her. ]

Aye. I think ye do.