Work Text:
"Trousers."
"But—" Sam starts to object.
Ginevra holds up the miniature figure of a woman. Her small fingers look gargantuan underneath the queen's arms. The queen addresses a long string of invective at Sam, incensed that he allowed her to be taken.
Gently, Ginevra sets the queen into the box with her captured comrades; the queen continues her diatribe, but more quietly now that she has a number of subservient, sympathetic ears.
Ginevra leans back in her chair and flicks her eyes up and down Sam's bare chest. She's still fully dressed. "Shy?"
"Never," he says, and unbuttons his jeans.
