"Hehe, Graz'zt is courting death. Just wait—Pale Night will make a move soon enough." Solam and Malcanthet were still carrying out their usual activities in bed. Lately, Solam had realized he was becoming more and more addicted to this sport. That was a dangerous sign, so he decisively bid Malcanthet farewell. If this went on, even Solam did not know what might happen. In any case, staying farther away from this woman was definitely the right choice.
But unexpectedly, a perfectly good farewell somehow developed into this again. Solam felt helpless and could only keep comforting himself inwardly. This is the last time! The last time!
Well... since it was the last time, he ought to leave himself something to remember it by, right? So Solam went completely wild, playing for an entire day. As a result, his departure had to be postponed by another day... Ah! Man, your name is scumbag!
In the very end, Solam finally relied on his iron will to bring this prolonged battle into a truce. If they kept going, he felt that his departure date might be delayed yet again.
Though they had called a truce, neither Solam nor Malcanthet intended to get out of bed so quickly. Although they both knew they were merely putting on an act with each other, an act had to be carried through to the end. They still needed some basic tenderness, or it would seem far too low-class.
Thus, the two pale, naked flesh worms remained tangled together, whispering all sorts of nonsense. Neither knew who started it, but before they realized it, they had begun discussing the current situation, which led to Solam's earlier remark.
"Why do you say that?" Malcanthet asked in a sweet voice, whether she truly did not understand or was pretending to