oblivion is the name of this abode: and she is there
Anju cannot help but snort softly, impressed. "Astute. You are correct. Thieves are more fun to punish personally." The slight smirk softens her sharp gaze into something flirtatious instead of intimidating, happy to linger in Flora's space and inhale her - surely expensive - perfume.
Rising slowly like a slumbering leviathan, Anju removes her hand from Flora's thigh as she goes though not without using her fingertips to ruck up the fabric there. It is easy to pull the offered chair with her foot and sink into it in one motion, intentionally pulling it closer to Flora so she can settle her ankle on the opposite knee in a relaxed but clearly self-confident pose. "I would like that. I prefer high quality scotch." Fitting for the sharp-edged Dragoon, not that she cares about pigeonholing herself.
Rising slowly like a slumbering leviathan, Anju removes her hand from Flora's thigh as she goes though not without using her fingertips to ruck up the fabric there. It is easy to pull the offered chair with her foot and sink into it in one motion, intentionally pulling it closer to Flora so she can settle her ankle on the opposite knee in a relaxed but clearly self-confident pose. "I would like that. I prefer high quality scotch." Fitting for the sharp-edged Dragoon, not that she cares about pigeonholing herself.
