[oom] Indy's Room

Fiona stretches, arms reaching over her head, toes pointed, her spine arching with contentment.  Her skin still tingles and every muscle in her body is filled with the sweet ache of exertion.  The stretch ends, leaving her boneless and replete. 

Leaning against his side, she listens to the scratch of the old Zippo as Indy lights a Chesterfield.

"That is so cliché," she purrs.