Jonathan Sims

Martin isn't expecting the little nip to his neck, but what shocks him more than the sensation itself is that it's essentially a reprimand, a playful little warning shot across the bow of his presumption that he should be taking an active role in whatever John has planned. John is not above these sorts of taunts, but Martin at least usually knows when he's earning them. Getting it unexpectedly is... well, unexpectedly potent. He's so startled he doesn't even have the wherewithal to make a proper noise; he just gasps, sucking in a sharp breath, his hands going abruptly still and his heart beating a little faster.

"R-right," he says a moment later, flushed and slightly breathless, not exactly chastened so much as embarrassed to have reacted so strongly to something so mild. Really, acting contrite, as though John had earnestly meant to scold, doesn't even occur to him, and reacting with demure obedience doesn't appeal. He's still not sure what John's specific intentions are, and his curiosity on the subject has only sharpened, which hardly lends itself to obliging patience. Once he's recovered from the surprise, he eyes John with something approaching suspicion and says, "Suppose I just thought I could help you manage them faster."