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"That sounds familiar," she mused, voice soft. "I was ten when my mom died." Just like Sol, had Peyton really realized what it meant to become a hunter, she might not have been so quick to sign up. How had her father handled "losing" one of his baby girls? How had Astrid dealt with Peyton's "death"? Had she any idea, the thought would be a torturous, lingering one.

Sometimes it was better not knowing. In this ignorance was bliss.

The smile was back at the compliment, but she gave him a considering look, pale eyes narrowing slightly as pink lips stretched into a full grin. The kindness and care she showed Solomon wasn't exactly the same brand she'd shown her little sister, but she accepted the praise.

For one thing there was a fundamental difference in what propelled her the casual hair stroking or sleeve grabbing.

It was unfortunate, and it spoke volumes to how comfortable she felt in his presence if she was willing to admit even that much about her past. She was usually far more tight-lipped. Usually the most she offered by way o background was that she had moved around a lot. Only two people on the island, sans the higher ups probably, knew that Peyton had lost her mother.

Any and all seriousness was thrown by the wayside though as Sol raised himself up further on his arms to peer down at her, teasing grin on his face. She blinked up at him, smile sort of frozen on her face, then brought her good hand up to to cover as much of her face as she possibly could as color rushed over her cheeks.

Whhhhhhy?

<Because you're adorable, just answer him.>

Shut up!

She peeked at him through her fingers, then slid her hand back to smooth her bangs away from her face as she offered up a sheepish grin. "Just.. You know. I don't really see you the same as I see my little sister."

That may have been the first time she'd gotten all flustered and still smiled.

It was actually pretty hard to stay flustered when the person making you blush continued to also make you laugh. Her cheeks were still rosy, but the mental image of Astrid's delicate face on Sol's tall and lanky body was just too much. "Those are some mighty strange dreams, Mister Secretary of Defense, but hey, whatever floats your boat." Sass.

She regarded his snapping finger and teasing grin with mix of amusement and exasperation, then rolled her eyes past his shoulder to the sheets suspended above them. "I can't say as I've seen many blanket forts that could match the craftsmanship of this baby." Delicate fingers pulled free of blonde curls and fell back to lay against the bundled up blankets beneath her. "That's pretty important skill set to have, you know." It was her turn to tease, but it was all in good fun.

"Will you plan it all? Or just make it all up as you go?" Pale brows twitched, lips splitting in a cheeky grin. It was an obvious reference, but she hoped he'd appreciate it.

As he settled into the blankets again she rolled onto her side, propping her head up on her elbow so she could survey the fort's interior in full before the soles of bare feet caught her eye and lead the eye up jean clad legs. Rather abruptly they snapped from the back of his thighs directly to his face. "For me, you say? Mister Secretary, you are going above and beyond the call of duty."

Please don't blush, please don't blush, please don't blush..

<Did you just try to sneak a peek at his a**?>

Warrick!

Please stop blushing!

Weapons..

It was a good thing Peyton couldn't hear Aren as well, or she would have been mortified.

Thankfully Solomon was not only an excellent blanket fort architect, but he was also incredibly nice, and spared her the embarrassment of pointing out that she'd been caught stealing glances.

She would have been grateful, had she been aware. Which would have defeated the purpose.. "I know you were the right man for the job."

Her head tilted thoughtfully, watching his fingers trail back through the crest of dark hair. "I suppose if you're heart is set on it, you can be both?" Why a pet though? Maybe Peyton just hadn't had enough pets as a child to fully grasp the significance. Goldfish had been Pey's idle pet. Simplicity aside, she had a warm spot for pretty little fish.

The grin flared anew at his suggestion, and she sank back down so her cheek was pillowed against the blankets. "That sounds like a great idea, but more then just once a month I think. Bi-weekly maybe? And certainly after any traumatic craziness."

Pale eyes narrowed. She was starting to get the impression he was toying with her, teasing, and if that was the case she could really only shake her head and move on. Solomon, you are a brat.

"This was a really good idea." After the tear things had been stressful and frightening, and that problem had just been compounded by the way it was handled. This was so incredibly different and distracting that it was actually a rather genius means of coping.

A lot better then lingering on all the chaotic bullshit that had just happened to you.

"Definitely a tradition I can get behind."