"Theo was a strange bloke then." He joked, smiling as she laughed, he missed her laugh, particularly when it had been caused by him. When she mentioned Marlowe's father, for a moment he almost gave her a strange look, wondering why in the world she was even mentioning Davies, until he realized she was talking about him. Something about hearing her call him Marlowe's father made everything- right- and he smiled widely.
"Well his mother seemed to enjoy him rather well." He teased back jovially.
At her next words however, he scoffed. "She does no such thing. His wife, maybe," he said with a small shrug and a wink, "but prior to that he did his own disgruntled shopping."
As she moved into the kiss, the feeling of her hand clenching in his robes, he pulled her closer, mildly aware that their bodies didn't fit together the same way anymore, intrigued by it. Still softly prodding at her mouth, making dips and sweeps against her lips, Montague slowly pulled his hand from her back to rest on her side, the growing belly smooth against his palm.