[Diarmuid catches that poky hand and presses the back of it to his lips, tongue flicking to just barely to tease the skin.

Distractions? What distractions?

He grins at her and then lets the hand go so she can wrap her arms around him.]

I don't know why you think I should have been anything but good to you. Does it say somewhere in the rules of being a husband that I should not be good to you? I don't know if I was ever told that part...