His hand stilled on her leg, knowing full well what his gut instinct was. He knew she had given so much of herself to the cause and come out of it with some semblance of herself. It was more than he could say for himself at times. But doing it again? When they weren't at war--when there wasn't such a great risk>
"I think," he began, a held breath passing his lips. "I think you coped better than most through the war, Mar. I understand why you did it--why we all did things but..." He ran a hand through his ruffled hair. "We're not at war any more. You have to weigh up the risks and benefits. Do you honestly think you could put yourself through that again and come out unscathed?" Or less unscathed.
He dropped his hand. "You know I'll never tell you what to do. In our line of work, you never know how the day will end. There's no point in worrying about it." And that's why he was so bloody jovial most of the time. If he spent his time worrying about every mission Marlene went on, he'd be a jibbering wreck.
Marlene might have been more willing to delve deeper into the reasons behind her sexual escapades, but he wasn't. He didn't want to talk about how utterly drunk he got himself sometimes--taking men and women to bed who he didn't know. It was stupid and reckless, but he spent most of his life being reckless and not knowing how the day would end.
"I bet Moody would be a decent shag," he smirked. "Dumbledore would offer you a lemon drop in the morning and make the bed before he left. Something to consider... You've definitely had worse shags."