you could call me babe for the weekend

Flora

"Thin enough, or if it's in hands that know what they're doing." She suggests coyly. No doubt the butcher could make quick work of the gown if he'd wanted to despite it's immaculate construction if only because he'd know precisely where to begin pulling. The mere mention of it would later see Flora buying red lace underwear for her next rendezvous with the butcher. Perhaps she'd even buy this gown as well, just for him. Something told her that while he reviled in finery, she could twist his arm into deconstructing it with his teeth.

It's Flora Gorgeous by Gucci, the one in the tiffany blue bottle, as it happens. It isn't a flush that spreads across Flora's cheeks so much as it's pure heat. She watches with a gaze nearly as intense as his own, her eyes following the movements of his fingers with a predatory wonder as her skin ripples with gooseflesh beneath the lace, begging for his touch to grow assertive and possessive as it had done before. "A shame none of them lasted." She murmurs softly, noting the way Asta's gaze had dropped to her shoulder. "I'd have liked more than just a memory to remember you by." Her fingers combed the back of his hair, ensuring it stayed perfectly in place even as he leaned over her, and though she hadn't any such ability, Flora willed the butcher's large hand to drop from her belly and make its way further south.

Tilting her chin in order to brush her cheek against his jawline—gods but he was so tall—Flora laughs lightly under her breath. "I find you charming and aloof." She replies, her own tone teasing before slowly untangling herself from around him and spinning slowly. "Shall we look in the larger mirror..?"

Fatefully, I tried to pick my battles 'til the battle picked me
Misery, Like the war of words I shouted in my sleep

Code stolen from Queen Sky