The Tidebreaker's pout died on impact.
"PFFT! What the fuck is wrong with you, bastard?!" She got a mouthful of cool water before she got her hands up. Dwarven blood sluiced down her cheek, her throat, the front of her breastplate, and into the dirt at her boots in a red trail. Her hair, which had been clinging to her cheek in damp strands, was now plastered flat to her skull in a way that did not flatter the pout.
"This is not the kind of liquid I wanted from you!" she sputtered, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.
"..." Quinlan's grin did not move as the water unraveled and re-formed at his other shoulder, this time as a sheet rather than a ribbon.
It rolled across the courtyard, found both squirming swordfighters at the foot of Rosie's tree, and broke over them at once.
The kitten-wrestle paused mid-grapple.
