The lads are hootin' and hollerin' as they ride through the barmkin, circling around the wide open area before the pele tower. Johnny looks up, still seein' the candle lit in the window. His bonnie lass is still awake, likely waiting for him anxiously. And Johnny's fuckin' glad, because this last reave has his blood up. He dismounts, slapping the pony on the ass so that it runs over with the others. He's dirty, sweaty, and wearing blood that might be his own. He can't bloody tell. All he can think about is his lass, waitin' for him with her soft skin and lovely teats. He takes a moment to wash off the worst of the dirt and grime, hoping ye'll not make him wait too long with a bath.

He makes his way into the house. It's a massive and intimidating structure of rock, having been built years ago. And Johnny's had the luxury of expanding it, of widening the MacTavish clan's influence by taking land from smaller clans and cattles from the Sassenachs below the border. Reiving was in Johnny's blood, and he was bloody good at it.

The other men, loyal retainers, go to the Hall for mead and bread, but Johnny's on a mission. He's got a fire in his belly that only his woman can satisfy. He takes the stone stairs two at a time. And ye— ye meet him halfway. He grins slowly, loving the way ye look. All soft and rumpled, likely from tossing and turnin' amongst the furs. But then his grin wavers, seeing your hardened expression. "Wheest, lass. Can ya nae give a man but a moment tae enjoy his winnin's with his lady wife?"