I was brought up as a southern belle
I grew into the queen of hell
I grew into the queen of hell
This would surely be the moment for Ru to lower her sunglasses down over her nose as time slows and the sun glints attractively across surf and sweat to dazzle her for a moment, lips parting and cheeks flushing. It's straight from the novel in the young man's hands really. An older woman and a hunky poolboy; maybe she's out of practice and woefully ignored by her husband, or maybe he's cocky and enjoys her scoffing rebuffs that weaken over time. It's a compelling hook - which means it's a shame that he calls her ma'am, which is a lust-douser in any situation. Luckily for the both of them, there really isn't anything to quench. Koa may have the foundations of something truly eye-catching, but well...he's not Sunjata. Maybe in a few years.
And that's when the connection pinging at the back of her head finally sinks in as her hand comes up to take the offered book. Oh. Oh. Oh, Flora, you poor carbon-copy doomed to repeat history. Now it makes sense.
"Thank you, though it may have been better off buried truly," she bemoans with a half-smile, tucking the book under one arm and lifting her sunglasses up onto the top of her head to make it clear that her eyes are sweeping over him in a way that is far more evaluating than appreciative. They've mingled without crossing paths so many times it feels cosmic; Flora's bar opening, the duck game in the swamp, surely more where she's glimpsed him and never thought twice about it. Oh, but of course she knows him. He knows she knows, she knows he knows, all those fun round-rabbit statements - so it's all the more fun to let him squirm by letting the knowledge hang unacknowledged for a bit.
"Now I'm a bold woman so I won't ask for your tolerance just for the sake of politeness," she states boldly, still sweet as sugar as she sweeps her hair over her shoulder. "You're not a Torcher. What brings you here in the off season?" It's appropriate small talk, but the large cat in Hotaru's chest prowls and paces, demanding a satisfactory answer before she deems to sheathe claws he has no idea are already poised to strike. Why are you hanging around in my daughter's land when last I heard you vanished on her? But it's a simple question, of course. No reason to overthink it when it's delivered with a smile, right?
And that's when the connection pinging at the back of her head finally sinks in as her hand comes up to take the offered book. Oh. Oh. Oh, Flora, you poor carbon-copy doomed to repeat history. Now it makes sense.
"Thank you, though it may have been better off buried truly," she bemoans with a half-smile, tucking the book under one arm and lifting her sunglasses up onto the top of her head to make it clear that her eyes are sweeping over him in a way that is far more evaluating than appreciative. They've mingled without crossing paths so many times it feels cosmic; Flora's bar opening, the duck game in the swamp, surely more where she's glimpsed him and never thought twice about it. Oh, but of course she knows him. He knows she knows, she knows he knows, all those fun round-rabbit statements - so it's all the more fun to let him squirm by letting the knowledge hang unacknowledged for a bit.
"Now I'm a bold woman so I won't ask for your tolerance just for the sake of politeness," she states boldly, still sweet as sugar as she sweeps her hair over her shoulder. "You're not a Torcher. What brings you here in the off season?" It's appropriate small talk, but the large cat in Hotaru's chest prowls and paces, demanding a satisfactory answer before she deems to sheathe claws he has no idea are already poised to strike. Why are you hanging around in my daughter's land when last I heard you vanished on her? But it's a simple question, of course. No reason to overthink it when it's delivered with a smile, right?
You were just a little stowaway
That stabbed her way to save herself
That stabbed her way to save herself
