There were things that could punch through the strongest of emotoins, even the hottest desire.<br/><br/>Absolute unexpected shock was one of them.<br/><br/>She had felt a wild flare of lust, of triumph when he started to disrobe - she though he was anyway.<br/><br/>A spell?  A Gods-bedamned spell?  THAT was his response?  Her face was slack with disbelief as she folded up the dress again and darted past him to her gear.  She dressed hurriedly, but carefully.  Slipping wool socks on her feet, then pulling up linen trousers - after tying another dagger to her upper thigh.  Not the punch dagger, a simple small knife.  The punch dagger went on the belt she put around her waist after drawing a linen tunic over her head.  Soft boots, rising halfway to her knee were next, then she stuffed the dress in her pack and picked it up by one hand while slinging a multi pocketed sash over her shoulder crossways with the other.<br/><br/>And just stared at him in wonder, and a little anger.  "You gotta be married."  A snarl, an abolutely literal snarl as she tied her hair back, tucked the pick back into place in the tie. "Trickster Gods, you're faithful, what nobleman is faithful? You're far away, on campaign, she'd never know, probably would make allowances for the heat of battle, stress of war..."  Her voice dropped to an angry mumble, but it was more of the same as she yanked open the trap door, snapped "If you can make that thing last longer do it and follow me!  Might as well use the time for SOMETHING!"  And then dropped out of sight, with more angry muttering, mostly indistinct although "...fucking highborn bitch.." was more clearly audible.