"In some ways... And in others they are nothing alike," He said with a shrug, trying not to smirk at the question, "Not dishes... A few apples though. She's also thrown me through a door."

He sighs happily like he couldn't ask for anything more in a woman.

Ragnar reluctantly pushed himself to his feet with a quiet exhale of pain, wishing Athelstan would agree to just let him ignore all of this until the morning. Maybe everything except for his palm. But he knew the monk would insist on trying to clean him up.