<span style="color: #FFBF40"><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">House of Delecroix</span><br/><span style="font-size: 130%; line-height: 116%;">Castle Devona</span><br/><br/><a class="postlink" href="http://i1343.photobucket.com/albums/o793/Galvin_Fugazi/16aaa03c-d70c-49d0-833d-aa82d7697d9f_zpsf037c19c.jpg">[ img ]</a><br/><br/><span style="color: #FFBF40"><span style="font-size: 150%; line-height: 116%;">Sir Abel M. Delecroix</span></span></div></span><br/><br/>Sir Abel listened, quite impressed with Martine's approach to men. It was a rather clever way of going about it, and it saved her a lot of time it seemed.<span style="color: #FFBF40"> "It is a bit to learn in such a short amount of time. I'm glad to have learned it, and of your little trick. I'm quite happy you are not the dull, flowery types that Erathia tends to offer...I would be quite bored," </span>Abel replied with a thoughtful nod.<br/><br/><br/>At Martine's next words, he couldn't say he was surprised. Though he hoped she understood that sometimes he was spoiling himself just as much by spoiling others.<span style="color: #FFBF40"> "Ah, I see. Well then, you'll save me a lot of coin,"</span>Abel said in reply, though his tone did indicate her understood her words. He would hate for her to lose respect for him, as he viewed marriage as something of a partnership. He knew most men did not and he was the odd one out in that regard, but when someone like Martine was presented to you as a wife--well, how could you not use that to your advantage and enjoy one another's company and mind?<span style="color: #FFBF40"> "I do hope you let me spoil you sometimes though--I'm afraid it's a habit I have developed and I would likely go crazy if denied that little pleasure. I will, of course, be mindful of what I get you. I don't want you ruining too many pretty dresses--you seem like the type to prefer being in the practice yard, stabbing a poor helpless dummy,"</span>he teased. He, of course, didn't think that she was the violent type at all, just the strong type. He was glad for it, already his anxiety diminishing.<br/><span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #4080FF"><br/> "...tell me something about the old man, what he does when he is not trying to look good in a joust,"</span></span>Martine demanded, smirking at him. Abel pretended to be offended, placing a hand on his chest,<span style="color: #FFBF40">"Me? Old?! Why I..."</span>he paused dramatically, acting flustered. He then straightened, shrugging some,<span style="color: #FFBF40">"Oh, I suppose the usual lordly things I am supposed to do. I attend my responsibilities, ride my horse, practice my jousting skills so I may look good,"</span>at that he gave a smirk, then continued,<span style="color: #FFBF40"> "But mostly I'm just trying to outrun the pranks of my siblings. Iris has a rather mean streak in her, though no one ever believes me. Just recently she put a spider in my bed, though she tries to deny it. What of you, Martine? What do you spend most of your days doing when you are not playing with daggers?"<br/></span>