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There are things Jing Yi expects when he flies through the window to his rooms.
Like his rooms. Like the floor being where he expects. Like all the furniture being out of the way of anyone flying through a window.
He finds none of those things.
There may or may not be a crashing noise. Or a very undignified yelp.
"So what do you do in this sort of situation in Great Tang? Do I have to identify as a gender first?"
"Well, I don't know if you take different approaches to men and women in Great Tang. --If you do I should be a man."
"You can, but that has-- implications. For something casual you usually don't."
"I mean, you can do that dance of proving your each other's literary equals, but you can also go to the right sort of tavern and just waggle your eyebrows."
"I have no idea how to compare whether I'm better read than you but I usually read three or four books a week."
They kiss his cheek again. "I could give you a list of recommendations, does that count."
They sit in his lap. "You should read Isaac Asimov," forehead kiss, "and Diane Duane," kiss on one cheek, "and Merrick Burns," kiss on the other cheek, "--oh, and you haven't seen any Shakespeare plays, have you? You should watch Shakespeare plays." Kiss on his nose.
"Supposedly the greatest writer in the English language, although it would be interesting to see what you think if you haven't been hyped up." Now he will get a kiss on his temples.
Rose is somewhat more passive of a kisser than he's used to but keeps remembering and then suddenly becoming more active.
"Well, I don't know, perhaps in Great Tang you traditionally have sex in the kitchen."
They stand up and start walking across said kitchen and down the hallway.
Rose's room has so many books. There are books on the shelves, books piled on top of the books on the shelves, books on the floor, books on the desk, and books on the bed in the center of which they have formed a little nest.
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