"--Oh, that's right, Mr Rosier-- that is to say, Rosier-- was in your year at school, wasn't he? A year beneath me?" Diana nodded to herself, perhaps thinking about her current "cougar" status with the young man, but more likely than not just thinking about their schooldays-- simpler times. Happier times.
She smiled fondly at the lad in front of her, and reached to pat his cheek; she would normally have ruffled his hair right back, had she not been worried about what, exactly, might pop out of it if she did that! "I'm fine, sweet, really! Although..." And now her smile turned impish. "I'd really be better if I could start NEXT Saturday with breakfast in bed...!"
Heedless of the man she was standing in front of-- what good was modesty, anyhow?-- she turned her dressing gown down off her shoulders in order to reach the knife wounds she was still bleeding from, in order to rub Dittany into them-- gingerly, of course! "Owww. No, I'm fine, really," she protested as...