Her eyes were running.
Not tears only. The full wet of a woman who has been punched in the womb while full of dragon seed and her body does not have a category for this experience and is responding with every fluid it has available.
"It— hah— hurts—" The words came out small. Small in a way none of her words had ever been small, in the particular register of a woman who has spent fifty years being the largest presence in every room and is currently lying on her back in the grass producing the voice of a maiden. "It hurts— Dragon Lord— it 'hurts—'"
He looked at her.
"My bad," he said.
His voice carried the warmth of a man who is not particularly sorry.
"Was I too hard?"
She stared at him.
