Donovan watched the activities before him with a close eye. If Dean began to seem as if he was losing out, Donovan figured he and Methuseld would have a decent headstart to get the hell out of the ship, if possible. Of course, the knight wasn't even sure Methuseld would want to -leave-... But if Dean appeared to be winning, then Donovan would be confident that things would turn out fine - even if that meant Dean doing terrible but delicious things to Aza.<br/><br/>He could feel Methuseld's glare as if he were standing next to a roaring bonfire. He turned his head to look at her, and she looked pretty angry... though she didn't -deny- his accusation, at least not immediately. HA. Truth was there someplace, he knew.<br/><br/>Then, of course, she quickly turned away from him (it was easier to deny and lie that way, of course) and claimed that she was just under a 'spell'. She tried to explain it away, blaming the ship-of-chaos for her woes. Donovan snorted.<br/><br/>"Likely excuse. Let's say I forced myself on you right now... but later, I just said, 'oh no, I was just under a -spell-.' Would you believe such a thing?" he asked. Part of him knew why he asked... because he had considered that very course of action...<br/><br/>He blinked as he stood there looking at her, realizing those thoughts weren't his own. Not... entirely. Not the -dark- parts, no... the parts about having her, about plowing into the blonde woman, about testing just how strong those thighs were and how luscious she tasted, THOSE were his thoughts.....<br/><br/>NO, wait, THOSE weren't his thoughts EITHER! No... not entirely... She was beautiful, yes, attractive and strong, sure. She'd -at least- be able to keep up with him for awhile, wouldn't she? But how -limber- was she? Would her legs be able to wrap fully around his neck while he-...<br/><br/>"DAMN IT. Stop that!" he growled to no one in particular, shaking his head, and then focusing on the blonde warrioress once more. He watched as she padded over to a large wardrobe and pulled out a shirt... one of HIS shirts... what the fuck was it with women wearing HIS clothes? When she came back, his eyes, of course, could not avoid focusing on the faint shadows of her nipples, wondering to himself why he hadn't taken a better look at them earlier...<br/><br/>"Stand here and wait... Steer the ship? Do you really think we can?" he asked, and it was not a rhetorical question. "If either of them," he said, nodding towards the two, "Are still in control of the ship, I don't think we're going to be able to steer the ship anywhere," he admitted. "But if it would make you feel better, then come on, let's go to the helm and see if we can change its course..."<br/><br/>Donovan turned and headed for the doorway that would lead outside these quarters. As they approached the door, he glanced back to Methuseld, almost as if remembering something he had nearly forgotten.<br/><br/>"Has anyone ever told you that you have beautiful eyes?"