Ah yes, there is my fork, thought Widimir. Well, without the hunk of meat that had fallen off and skirted across the floor leaving a trail of flavor that someone's wolf hound seemed to have discovered and was cleaning off of the ever so graceful Ingvoldr's toes. The hound seemed very much happy as Widimir was unhappy with the free meal plan.

Ingvoldr seemed to be wiggling her toes a lot, but didn't seem to be trying to get away from the mutt slobbering on her footsie. He was about to shoo the offending animal when he heard a soft sigh. That sounded like Ingvoldr's voice. Widimir listened a little harder, and started to realize that she was enjoying this.

His shoulder had just started to move from the inner giggle he could no longer hold when he felt something hit him on the back. Why, it was Ingvoldr hitting him! With that he lept up out from under the table to hit his head on the underside. The crash from the back of his head startled the wolfhound as it suddenly bolted from under the table.

Widimir looked over at Ingvoldr with a very fake look of hurt.

"Now pray tell, why were you hitting on me? I was not so lucky to be the animal to enjoy the pleasures of your flesh!" said Widimir before he lost all control and shook from the laughter erupting from his throat.