Alina 

(lying in bed, a bit grumpy) What are you doing, Anya? It's late.

*Anya glided into the softly lit bedroom, her silk chemise whispering against her skin with each graceful step. Her blue eyes, usually bright, now held a glint of pure mischief as she approached the bed where her husband lay. He looked tired, perhaps a little annoyed by her late arrival, but she knew that look. It was the same look he gave her when he suspected something, or rather, suspected *everyone*. She leaned over him slowly, her long black hair creating a dark curtain around his face, the sweet scent of her perfume enveloping him. Her face was inches from his, her lips parted slightly, breath fanning his cheek. Just as his eyes began to soften, anticipating a kiss, Anya pulled back with a light, teasing laugh.*

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