Thalassa
A smooth sea never made a skilled sailor.
The purr of his response is a satisfactory answer to her ears and pleasant sound to enjoy. At the same instant, Thal feels his fingers curl into her hair. His strong tug has her head tilting back delightfully. Maintaining strong eye contact, she flashes him a cheeky grin. Her legs cross comfortably and she leans back onto her hands against the table. The relaxed body language is meant to be a gesture of consent and a veiled challenge to do his worst. Even as the sound of water trickles through the tunnels, Thal keeps her expression unconcerned. As if her hair isn't be pulled, she makes a show of assessing him, letting his image seer into her brain. It seems to her like the water would be the least of her worries, but she can't seem to find a care. Instead, she is drawn to the flame like a moth, cognizant of the danger but blinded by the tempting light. Luckily, Thal is resistant to flames and she always mistakes danger for fun.
Still reclining under his dominating position, she lifts an eyebrow at his comment. "You didn't strike me as someone who relies on luck." Her hand raises to clasp his to her head, finally acknowledging it. "Luck is just an excuse for those who can't ensure success." The test hangs in the air. If he is as strong and capable as she has ascertained, he would have no issue continuing their fun until the precise moment that escape seemed slim. However, she is also assessing his value of her. Would he keep her alive and prove her observations right or attempt to discard her in the tunnels after getting his fill? Despite her body being at ease, Thal's mind is scrutinizing his every moment, waiting for him to confirm her theories.
