Bess turned quickly toward her husband, her chin pressing into her shoulder as she shot him a playful, flirty smile. She was very proud of the party and was glad to see Drystan not skulking around miserable. She knew when he was putting on an act, too, and was glad to see that his amusement was genuine. Good, she as glad. Bess had no problem with her husband's need for privacy and quiet, but he was a professional quidditch player---he needed to have something positive on his public image.
"I'm glad you think so, Mr. Fawcett," Bess nearly purred, moving to smooth out the shoulders of his dress robes. She was beaming with joy at the amused look on his face, but couldn't help her expression from faltering slightly at his remarks about returning to work. She had been pushing back her return to Brady's offices and it was beginning to become harder and harder to explain why. Bess put up such a front about not being able to wait to return to work, but in reality she loved being at home with her children so much that it was desperately hard to put a final date on their days together.
She would be honest; she felt like she had a family for the first time in years and did not want to let that feeling go.
"I imagine you underestimate my party planning skills," she said quickly, patting his chest as if in approval of his newly straightened robes.
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