The next day when she arrived, she wasn't in her armor. She wore a simple blouse and underbust corset with trousers. She looked around his home and smiled affectionately at the simplicity.
Simple was the optimal word. He made the best of it, despite living in poverty. The food smelled good, the home was clean, and he was in his nicest clothes.
She nodded and took a spoonful of the stew. She sat there with it in her mouth and blushed softly; he was a gifted cook. She hadn't tasted anything like it.
She smiled softly, loving to have someone to talk to. And she visited him a lot, in fact; a concerning amount of time was spent with him. Her warhawks advised frequently that she shouldn't waste her time with a drone but she never listened.
She pulled the bottle away and coughed a bit before clearing her throat, "You have nothing to be sorry for. They just want me to shit out children before I grow old."
She drank the whole bottle before she seemed to settle some, as well as drunk. "Hein," she slurred, "you don't think I need any heirs any time soon,do you?"