charlie
Charlie’s laughter bubbles up, light and teasing, like the first sip of champagne on a too-empty stomach—giddy, a little reckless, and utterly delighted by the sight of Kaisel scrambling to maintain his composure. She lets her tail linger for one last slow swirl around his calf, then releases him with a flick, the tip coiling back to drape over her own knee like the world’s most decadent feather boa.
"You’re adorable," she coos, one eyebrow waggling as she leans forward, elbows propped on the bar, chin in her palm. "But you’ve got me pegged all wrong. I don’t actually work here—well, not unless you count keeping the place interesting." She flashes him a wink, conspiratorial and wicked, before adding, "Priestess of Dygra, at your service!"
She lifts her glass in a mock salute, ice clinking as she downs the last sip, still never looking away from him, blue eyes bright and sunny. "Charlie," she supplies in return, the name slipping from her tongue like it’s a secret just for him. "And don’t you worry, sugar, I’ve got no objections to being your muse for the night. Whatever floats your boat," she grins, "or sinks it, depending on how things go."
With a dramatic little flourish, she straightens, still barely coming up to his chin. "So, artiste," she says, voice all syrup and sass, "what’s the plan? You wanna draw me right here?" She gestures broadly at the bar, as if there’s nothing she wouldn’t do in full view of a crowd. "Or do you have a room?" Her lashes flutter, teasing, then she grins wider. "Or we can use mine if you want. Sunny always gives me one of the bigger rooms."
"You’re adorable," she coos, one eyebrow waggling as she leans forward, elbows propped on the bar, chin in her palm. "But you’ve got me pegged all wrong. I don’t actually work here—well, not unless you count keeping the place interesting." She flashes him a wink, conspiratorial and wicked, before adding, "Priestess of Dygra, at your service!"
She lifts her glass in a mock salute, ice clinking as she downs the last sip, still never looking away from him, blue eyes bright and sunny. "Charlie," she supplies in return, the name slipping from her tongue like it’s a secret just for him. "And don’t you worry, sugar, I’ve got no objections to being your muse for the night. Whatever floats your boat," she grins, "or sinks it, depending on how things go."
With a dramatic little flourish, she straightens, still barely coming up to his chin. "So, artiste," she says, voice all syrup and sass, "what’s the plan? You wanna draw me right here?" She gestures broadly at the bar, as if there’s nothing she wouldn’t do in full view of a crowd. "Or do you have a room?" Her lashes flutter, teasing, then she grins wider. "Or we can use mine if you want. Sunny always gives me one of the bigger rooms."
oh I like my boys playin' hard to get
and I like my men all incompetent
and I like my men all incompetent
Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
