With Emma's expression and her bare legs and the humming heat from her little pink truths still on his fingertips Marlon went about a less encouraging environment. His home was in an unusual state of uproar, which was always neglect. The resident house elf had gone for merriment instead of duty, and the build-up was clear through any door he peered. Despite stalking through the corridors with vast shoulders and healthy bones, Marlon did not feel very physically inspired. That was, until he found her, and felt her scent greet him to celebrate.<br/><br/>He had ground his teeth and touched his temple with the ball of his palm, rolling it onto his eye. To Emma it would have been a signal to flee into a corner, but Marlon knew better than to expect household behavior from his wife. His swing in mood did energize him though. If Teija noticed the thunderclaps muffled in his chest she made no sign of it. He laughed to the side, a cloud of spittle marking his frustration with the disgusting and beautiful failure she'd let herself become, strewn on the now abused furniture. He frowned at the remains of her bounty. She was as she had been when he'd gone to get her replacement, only layered in more of herself.<br/><br/>It was painful just to see her sit up. Marlon breathed through his nose and looked around, adapting some of her life-fatigue as a way of coping with her uselessness. It was the face he wore when they were alone, anyway. His broken woman. She'd not grown up like this, but she'd never been a stellar girl's girl, either. "It's killing me too, beautiful." he answered about her headache. He still wrapped his arm around her waist to keep her upright. This wasn't the first time he'd been her dancing partner in standing. He wondered if she really did wear her dirt well, her smudged paint, or if he'd just gotten used to her, and that she simply looked like home. Marlon didn't lean away from the billowing proof of how she'd lived in his absence.<br/><br/>"I can see." he added when she laid out her woe about having spent what had been in the chest. Crafty raccoon, too. Octopi can  get into bottles and were celebrated as intelligent. His fingers brushed her forehead as he looked her over, like a master searching his pet for ticks. He'd not often admit to her intelligence. His lips lifted to mirror her victorious grimace. "Oh you will?" he prodded as he moved against her. Suck him. She had no real say in where they went, not when she was sober, not when she was hungover. "Will you get pretty for me first?" he asked, voice even, unengaged.<br/><br/>The sunlight burnt the room and got stuck on specks on the way. Teija loved the dust, and it was a consensual affair. His long legs took a stride which bumped the back of hers against the couch that had surely housed her for a disproportionate amount of time compared to what was common in the other commune house. This was an unusual house, after all. He hadn't meant for her to shower or change her clothes. He'd been lugging a princess around and watched her learn her place so quickly - he needed release. A roll of his finger signaled she should drop her top, at least, as he sat down on the cushions that smelt like all stages of her. He was somewhat looking forward to her inventive mouth, while she was wearing his pants.<br/><br/>He sighed. For the excitement of whisking Emma away, it had been without physical reciprocation. He had half a mind to go down there and see what else her poker mentality would let her agree to. Marlon looked his wife in tatters up and down. Teija wasn't bad. "But if you're not good, I won't give you anything." If you're not a good girl, there won't be any presents. A finger ran over his eyebrow as he waited. He thought he was just going to take the gratification and go to bed, but there were volatile energies in his shoulders and limbs. When she got him out of his jeans he'd have his cheek to his knuckles, looking down on her. "Beat yourself in the face with it. And thank me."