She was fussing. She knew it. She hated it but yet she always seemed to find herself fussing when it came to Remi. He was always later, often dishevelled and she worried where he had been and who with.
“You are late.” She said tartly, running her hands across his shoulders, smoothing down his jacket. It was much easier to speak to Remi like this. She could touch him so openly in a way she wasn’t permitted with Carmilla or the girls. Scandalous it might be, but still the type of scandal she and the family could endure. “But you do look handsome.”