For a moment she just stared at him, her eyes wide and lips slightly parted in surprise. He spoke with such passion and an almost assaulting superiority that existed almost exclusively in those who lead.
Then, the moment passed and she laughed. She laughed so hard that tears sprung in her eyes and she clutched at her stomach as cramps began to form. She laughed long enough that she found herself pulling back from him and waving her hand at him as if she were about to speak, to explain, but the laughter would return and she found she couldn't talk , couldn't form any kind of coherent response.
So she unfolded herself and placed her feet on the floor before aimlessly wandering his room while the humor subsided into small, occasional chuckles. She ran her fingers delicately across the picture frames, the tops of chairs, sometimes against the slats of the walls themselves.
Then she turned to him again, finally in control.
"Oh Opus. You are a marvelous fool."