Okay, points to the damn beastie for being cute as fuck and packing ten pounds of fearless angry into a ten ounce bag. Zef could respect cojones like that on any creature, no matter how small. Sure, maybe it was completely crazy, but it had fire, and she grinned wide and sharp as it headed towards her. "C'mere, cutie," he purred at it, raising one bare foot in preparation for granting its adorable death wish--
But Edmund got to it first, and Zef lowered her foot with a quiet huff of pique as his common sense and focus on their goal got on the way of her fun. She crossed her arms over her chest to look down at the kneeling Edmund and his wee prisoner and let out an un-ladylike snort at his question.
"Tiger, does it look like I've got pockets?" she scoffed, amusement glinting in her golden eyes. The question was functionally rhetorical; not only was it Longheat, but it was Zefira that Edmund was talking to. Her leather pants might well have been painted on her, and only the chest wrap around her modest breasts prevented the shredded halter top she wore from scandalizing the populace outside the Last Whisper. "Hang on, though. I think there's just the thing..." She tapped a nail against her hip thoughtfully, then turned and prowled up the stairs.
She returned a few minutes later with a cocktail in one hand and a cardboard coaster in the other that she waggled triumphantly. "Here we go. Catch!" She tossed the stiffened square at her fellow Ancient and moved to crouch beside him, scooping up the lid as she grinned evilly down at the spider that hissed and chittered malevolently back up at her. "Flip the little bastard on three and I'll cap 'im." Taking a sip of her drink - dark red, thick, and with a slender stick of green canting out of the glass at a jaunty angle - she poised to follow through on her promise.
Probably.
But Edmund got to it first, and Zef lowered her foot with a quiet huff of pique as his common sense and focus on their goal got on the way of her fun. She crossed her arms over her chest to look down at the kneeling Edmund and his wee prisoner and let out an un-ladylike snort at his question.
"Tiger, does it look like I've got pockets?" she scoffed, amusement glinting in her golden eyes. The question was functionally rhetorical; not only was it Longheat, but it was Zefira that Edmund was talking to. Her leather pants might well have been painted on her, and only the chest wrap around her modest breasts prevented the shredded halter top she wore from scandalizing the populace outside the Last Whisper. "Hang on, though. I think there's just the thing..." She tapped a nail against her hip thoughtfully, then turned and prowled up the stairs.
She returned a few minutes later with a cocktail in one hand and a cardboard coaster in the other that she waggled triumphantly. "Here we go. Catch!" She tossed the stiffened square at her fellow Ancient and moved to crouch beside him, scooping up the lid as she grinned evilly down at the spider that hissed and chittered malevolently back up at her. "Flip the little bastard on three and I'll cap 'im." Taking a sip of her drink - dark red, thick, and with a slender stick of green canting out of the glass at a jaunty angle - she poised to follow through on her promise.
Probably.
