[ Margo knew the truth of her own words deeply. She was a king after all, she did things that many might consider "wrong" but she did them for the right reasons. And more than anything, she understood: ] Sometimes you have to dirty your hands to grow something or make something work.

[ She moves to sit up a bit more with him, taking the bottle and not caring a lick about modesty as she takes a swig and the sheet slips down both of their bodies.] Although--- [ she takes another quick sip before offering it to him again, her voice quite serious.] I gotta know: Is Napoleon as short as he's always been shown to be? [ Her lips curve impishly slightly as she glances at him, her heart aching at the familiarity of the moment, at how much she wishes he would pull her close and kiss her smug expression away for such a ridiculous change of subject so clearly meant to lighten the mood.]