It was not her sense of humor that was rusty, it was a time gap in their knowledge and form of humor that was to blame for this misunderstanding. Percival realized his mistake and his grin edged toward sheepish as he tried in his silent way to make up for what he had said.

"Thank you my Lady. Sir Percival, Knight of Camelot." He bowed as much as a cramped closet would allow. When he shifted he felt himself bump her. Percival did not think twice about reaching out to catch her if she stumbled, fingers curling her elbow just in case.

"Do you know of this seven minutes in heaven?" He would rather not die if that was okay with everyone. And this was definitely not a game from his generation.