Saturday, March 27th, 1891, Late Afternoon — Emrys' Home, Bristol

Winning the tournament had been less taxing than the last - what - day? The comparison had Angelica grinning and stretching her legs, which was impressive because she'd wager she'd been hit by a rather potent jelly-legs curse at some point since she last woke. Judging by the light in the room, it was far later than when they'd last been awake. They'd certainly earned their rest.

She'd woken when the morning light was still grey and soft through the heavy curtains and after taking stock of every pleasant soreness and little mark on her body, Angelica took her time getting better acquainted with her host. It was impossible to smirk with her mouth so engaged, but her unorthodox wake-up call certainly proved a good start to the day. When he called for breakfast later, Angel commandeered a nightshirt over some insistence that she couldn't possibly eat breakfast in bed without dressing. He'd repaid her morning stunt and proven just how ineffectual the garment was when she was the chosen meal. It was enough to make her blush.

Greeting him with a chaste kiss (given the situation), Angel forced herself up from the pillows with a little groan. "It seemed we've lost most of the day. Are you certain I haven't kept you from some nautical adventure? Or,"Angelica offered with another appreciative look around the room, "Perhaps you have moved on to decorating." She teased, but the man certainly had the eye of an artist.

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