Aramis had always viewed Constance as a respectable woman, in his eyes at least. He'd never had any romantic feelings towards her however and certainly wouldn't have anything to do with her in that sense now - the situation between her and d'Artagnan would have made that awkward. Ah, young love.

He was however a red-blooded male, and when she came to the garrison looking for d'Artagnan he could not help but appreciate her figure hugging dress. Apparently he wasn't as discreet about observing those curves as he had thought.

Constance back-handed him hard across the face, leaving him sprawled, legs on the bench and back lying in the dirt. Porthos let out a bark of laughter before hiding his smile sheepishly behind another swig of wine as Constance glared at him. Aramis could dig himself out of this one. Everyman for himself.

"Aramis! Stop looking at me like that, I am not a piece of meat, despite what you might think! Did you hear a word I just said?" Constance reprimanded him. Definitely not subtle observation then.

"I, you, uh, I mean - my apologies Madame Bonacieux. I was merely … entranced by your beautiful dress. Is it new?" Aramis fumbled with his words, not wanting to offend Constance, but also attempting to cover up his lapse in good 'women-watching' skills.

Constance huffed and raised an eyebrow, not convinced by his explanation. "Aramis I wore this dress the other week, I thought soldiers were supposed to be observant?" Constance taunted.

Evidently that was not so today.

Aramis wasn't quite sure how to respond, his usually calm and collected appearance becoming slightly frazzled.

"No explanation then? I thought not. Give this to d'Artagnan when you see him would you?" Constance said stiffly as she handed him a letter addressed to Charles d'Artagnan and walked away.

Huh, Charles. Charlie! New nicknames for d'Artagnan started to develop in his head - d'Art was getting a little old.

"Smooth Aramis, very smooth. You're lucky d'Artagnan wasn't here, I imagine his punch would've hurt more than Constance's slap." Porthos said, certainly finding this funnier than Aramis was.

As Aramis rubbed his jaw, he shot a glare at Porthos.

"I'd imagine they're probably on par with each other. However I have no desire to be slapped by Madame Bonacieux anytime again in the near future." Aramis replied. Good God his jaw hurt, she definitely hadn't held back.

"Are you sure you have to imagine that?" Athos said dryly. "After all there was that one time where d'Artagnan- "

"Yeah, yeah, maybe I don't have to imagine, no need to rub it in eh?" Aramis mumbled. "Pass me the wine Porthos, I can't feel my jaw."

Porthos just sniggered, knowing Aramis he probably wouldn't be waiting very long for another slap from Madame Bonacieux.