Re: Kitsch
"It's rarely this tidy," Gael confided and confirmed. It may have seemed sexist, having the women do the cooking that night, but it was their turn. Really. Kiernan usually did the brunt of the work, and Morgan on occasion. Ronan tried, bless him. "He'd gladly hop on a spitroast for ya," the Irish dreamer said, then cackled. Oh no. This topic. Her face remained gleeful, though. "They're all a bunch of..." she sighed. "I hate broad generalizations. I guess there are some nice enough guys. I just haven't found one worth a second look. Though..." she smirked wickedly. "I wish the new librarian in town was going to be working the school's instead." Her petite eyebrows wriggled in Lorna's direction and then she moved quickly when she heard the front door to grab the salad bowl that was bigger than her and place it at the center of the table. Oh. Just Morgan. She threw a piece of dressed lettuce at him.
It hit his face. "And I love you very much as well," Morgan rattled off at his little cousin before he looked at his almost-expired-time-bomb of a wife. Fuck, she was gorgeous... "The place smells amazing. Ye're obviously witches and should be crushed under stones. I happen to be a stone," he concluded, the picked Lorna up over his shoulder, threw her on the couch that was sadly nearby, and flopped atop her. "Admit yer sins! Talk, or we'll add more weight!" he motioned behind him for Gael to jump on his back. She did.