There was no cringing, nor uncertainty.  No trepidation that he could detect in her response to his old wounds.  She didn't shy away from the area, didn't try to baby it.  "Adventure,"  He said, taking up the pants she'd brought him.  "Is much more romanticized than people realize.  There are a lot more sewers than the stories tend to tell about."  Despite the statement, his tone seemed to be in good humor as he shoved his pants down to step out of.  He hurried into the jeans with a glance over his shoulder at his wife.<br/><br/>"I'm sorry that he never got a chance to know you."  He said, buckling his belt around his hips.  "To see the grudge mended.  I think he was tired of it."  He finished, following his wife into the kitchen.  His kitchen too, now.  There would be a funeral to plan, and attend.  That would be a mess.  "We'll uh...  We'll be having the funeral in a week's time.  You don't have to come if you don't want.  It'll mostly be Murphys there, and I understand if it's not comfortable for you."<br/><br/>He trailed off, studying the woman.  She looked good in casual clothes.  In fact, Casey had trouble imagining her looking bad in anything.  Privacy.  What privacy was needed with his wife?  He felt foolish for a moment.  "Do you need anything?  You've been wonderful, and giving, and...  I feel like I should be making it up to you."