"What do you think we should name him?" Arianna asked Marcel who was scowling at the rabbit in her arms for some strange reason. She was absent-mindedly stroking through the animal's fluffy coat.
"How do you even know it's even a he?" Marcel asked, hands on his hips. It had taken him enough courage to walk Arianna back to their room after their men saw her get the best of him. And now, his men would think that he was a henpecked husband. Well, he liked the sound of "husband", just not "henpecked" part.
God, what would his father think of him if he saw him in this condition?
Weak! pathetic! Pussywhipped! The words would be endless, with one or two beatings to reset his brain. Nope, thank you, he was happy the way he was. The first time Marcel actually felt like he was alive after his mother died and he was going to ruin it just because of what his men thought of him. He was good the way he was. He would rather be a fool for Arianna.
