"Not funny," she replies, very nearly stubborn once more, propped up on shaky elbows. This is Tristran we're talking about here - who abducted his morals? "You shouldn't -"

She sucks in a ragged breath and then shudders a startled, dazed laugh back out again - hands are, eyes are, lips are - and remembering to keep breathing is suddenly far more important than remembering which bits of her would very much like to demand attention next.

All of them, she would like to suggest. (She shivers instead.)

Horrid cheat.

"And if I forget my name?" she whispers, skin bright as she taps a pattern up the side of his neck. "Know how to get that one back?"