Xander wandered over to the couch, maintaining his look of dismay. He kept his shoulders slumped, as he lay on the cushions, pointedly making his back face Yera.
He wondered if he was a good actor. Was he convincing? Would his dear wife have pity on him? Xander knew why she was mad: he had acted like a child when he had tried to get her out of the game earlier. But could she blame him? He missed her so much. Sometimes he wished to lock the two of them alone somewhere together.
He laid completely still, waiting. This love-sick shameless guy thought to just lay pouting on the couch for a while. Yera would soon feel bad, and he would get up and join her in bed. But he had to wait for her irritation to go away first…
