After a long dinner, Tyrion and Penelope retired to their room. They had their bath, which was prepared by the servants.
Tyrion was the first one to lie down on the bed, and to his surprise, Penelope followed him shortly to straddle his lap. His hands instinctively went to her waist.
"You didn't want to soak with me, but you'll do this. What are you plotting?" Tyrion asked, suspecting she was up to no good.
Penelope placed her hands on Tyrion's bare chest. "Why must it be that I am plotting something?"
"Because you are. I know you like the back of my hand," said Tyrion.
"No, you do not. I assure you that I am full of surprises. If you understood me, then your courting would have worked long ago. There is something I must speak of," Penelope said, moving her hands to pin Tyrion's to the bed. "I should have saved one of my ribbons for your hands."
"You're starting something that you're going to have to see all the way through to the end," Tyrion warned Penelope.
