"Shag sire?" Terrence asked, brow furrowing even as his mouth twitched. "Is that your weird way of saying who's your daddy?" He laughed, too; this conversation truly was completely ridiculous. But then, most conversations he had with Ella were like that. They very rarely talked about anything of actual importance - they very rarely needed to. "I think I have bigger issues with you being my sire than with you being a bitch."
He made a contented sound, low in his throat, at the way her fingers dug into his thigh. His fingers tightened in response, and shifted to curl around her throat, his thumb resting at the back of her skull while the rest of his hand covered quite a bit of the skin between her jaw and her collarbone. She was so tiny, and yet he often forgot that, because her personality was so much larger.
Well, size wasn't everything. His lips quirked into an amused smirk at the thought.
"They'd have to be well trained to go near your pumpkins," he said, teasing. "Not to peck them, or steal them, or set them on fire.. my dinner's one thing, but we both know how protective you are about your pumpkins."