"Bringin' Back the Joy" rocks my socks, and I'm not even wearing socks.

In return, a clerical vignette I didn't remember writing, but recognized once I recently unearthed it, and snickered all over again.

Valentine's Day
originally posted here

We stood rank by rank in the audience, which made it easy to reach over and walk my fingers up his leg. Most of it was sheathed in polished plate-mail, but at the top of his thigh, somewhere near (my eyes faced obediently forward, but certainly not for the droning ecclesiastical lecture), there was chain jointing. . .here. I poked my pinkie finger through the links--thankfully, he didn't have hairy legs--then eased my other fingertips into other links, and barely clenched my fingers.

Our row lurched as he doubled over, I yanking my pinched fingers free and howling about some oafs and their shields, the poor sap on his right fracturing some bones as he caught a high-quality spiked mace atop his knees. He caught himself, one hand on his knees and bent over slightly still. My eyes were still facing obediently forward so I had seen none of this, once he turned his glare upon me.

"What do you think you were doing?"

I curled my lips inward to suppress a grin. "Trying to draw off some of your holiness. I'm deficient."

For a full minute he teetered between taking that as truth or sarcasm. Whatever the decision, his eyes went away for a moment, doubtless imagining some exquisite martyr's death for me (I saw him grimace). With some effort, he stood at attention again, eyes obediently forward and lower lip barely between his teeth.

"I'd like," he bit, "to see you stripped of your rank and title and armor, in front of all of us."

"I'm not wearing the undersuit either," I retorted, rolling one shoulder and making the plate clink as it didn't glide on cloth paddings.

For such a nippy day, he looked ready to have a heat stroke. Maybe it was better that he'd remain bent over. Maybe it wasn't as good that he had decided to forgo the paddings. Holy he may have been, but as a paladin, he needed a lot of work. . .and lucky chance, I was in a preaching mood. There was still time aplenty to convert him before he took his vows--he wouldn't be a paladin then, but I was doing the paladins' college an unpaid favor, there.