There's an answer, then. Mercutio shivers at the scrape of fingers against her scalp. She'd like to get this gown off her bride, and her tunic and hose off herself, and feel those fingers against the rest of her skin, and with this urgency in mind she ducks down to loop an arm under Éowyn's knees.

"Up with thee, love," she says with a grin, lifting Éowyn, stepping towards the bed--

--And promptly staggering to put her back down with an oath, as her bad leg twinges dangerously. "God's me!"

cool, cool cool cool, very smooth, she's going to walk into the river and straight out to sea, don't mind her