Isaac watched him while he poured them both fair sized glasses of the whiskey. Taking a drink of his, he savoured the burn down his throat and the way it pooled warmly in his stomach. He watched Marcus's back and the way his fingers held the wool. He contemplated his words, a grin on his face.
"You married the wrong Montague." It was said in jest, a light jab but with a laugh and lighthearted. "Isolde was always a social creature, she appreciates home and simple things like this but her love is with those events she attends and hosts." He resisted the urge to take a jab at the fact Marcus actually sewed.
"I was looking for the library the other day, was going to find something new to read." He raised an eyebrow at the comment about helping in the gardens. "I am a horrible and impatient gardener." He had been banned from the gardens at home, his mother swearing he pulled out her flowers and left the weeds. It all looked the same to him.