Amal practically inhaled the broth and bread, filling his stomach to his content. The Arabyan looked particularly dark and exotic wearing the white linen shirt he had bought. Rolled up sleeves, if she hadn't known him he would have looked like a foreign sailor having traveled inland to spend what wealth he had. He couldn't hide the small scars or the roving thief eyes, however. Even in their relative prosperity, he still thought of nabbing what he could. Old habits. 

Amal cleaned his chin with one of the cloths Greta had brought, and released it onto the table. Casually, he spun and gently laid his head on Emmaline's lap, legs hanging over the side of the settee. He wondered about the big cities of the Empire and where their vaults were held. Perhaps once they ran out of sums they could go to one of these capitals and steal from under the head northerner or whomever there was. But that was just his imagination. For now, they should enjoy where they were. "I like it as well. Of course, I'm sure danger will follow. I think we have that quality about us." He said wistfully, playing with her hair that now draped beside him. He still marveled at just how smitten he was with her. "It's sexy on you though, don't worry."

He grinned viciously, the same grin he had before he made love to Emmaline or slashed the throat of someone who had wronged him. The former was far more likely, though someone could burst in at any moment he supposed and ruin their moment.