She was going to punch him. It wasn’t dignified and it was the sort of behaviour she had spent her entire life suppressing but Merlin help her she took a step towards him and rage rose in her the likes of which she hadn’t felt in years. His smug, punctilious face was just itching to have the shape of her hand imprinted on it.

Perhaps a good slap would snap Maeve out of whatever this was too? She simply had to be under an enchantment and yet, she genuinely looked happy. There was a small possibility that violence might cheer Maeve further but Cait wasn’t prepared to risk it.

“I suppose that would be… appropriate,” she managed to force out the word, the degree to which all of this was the exact opposite overwhelming Cait to the point she had to sit back down.