i'd wipe the dirt off your name with the shirt off my back
Flora laughs, bright and unrestrained. "Oh, believe me," she says, lifting her glass in an answering salute, "I know the feeling. My inner drama queen is thriving this season. She practically has her own wardrobe." Or at least her own stationery, where Kaisel was concerned.
But then he offers himself up for no-strings sex, and she sags theatrically against the bar, one arm folded beneath her head like she’s just been rescued from a desert. "Thank the gods," she groans. "Because while I wildly adore you, and Asta, for that matter, thus far, you're the only two I’ve managed to sleep with who didn’t somehow implode my entire emotional infrastructure. So yes, yes, please. I’d very much like to accept."
As he settles beside her, Flora twists toward him, one leg crossing over the other as she leans in with a grin. "A madame, huh?" she echoes, eyes sparkling. "Danta, I only fucked you for the first time a few seasons ago. I may have a lot of ideas, but I’m wildly unqualified." Raising her glass to her lips again, Flora adds, "Also, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I already have a job. Queen of Torchline? Bit of a handful, that one."
Still, she sips from her drink again, entirely unbothered, as if playing barmaid-in-chief at a brothel would slot in just fine next to crown and chaos, and honestly, were it not so far away from the sun and the surf she'd probably consider it.
At the mention of Asta’s concerns, though, her expression shifts, thoughtful now, the ice in her glass swirling softly as she nods. "That makes sense." There’s no argument in her tone, only easy agreement and trust that of course Danta knows what lines not to cross when it comes to his lover.
But then she lifts her brows slightly, brushing one finger idly along the rim of her glass. "He told me he hasn’t needed blood at all this Leafchange," she murmurs, eyes narrowing just a touch. "You think that’s just the season talking, or...is it possible something’s shifting in him?" There’s no judgment in the question, just mere curiosity. Asta was Asta, but perhaps with the arrival of certain new abilities, older needs were being pushed out to make room.
But then he offers himself up for no-strings sex, and she sags theatrically against the bar, one arm folded beneath her head like she’s just been rescued from a desert. "Thank the gods," she groans. "Because while I wildly adore you, and Asta, for that matter, thus far, you're the only two I’ve managed to sleep with who didn’t somehow implode my entire emotional infrastructure. So yes, yes, please. I’d very much like to accept."
As he settles beside her, Flora twists toward him, one leg crossing over the other as she leans in with a grin. "A madame, huh?" she echoes, eyes sparkling. "Danta, I only fucked you for the first time a few seasons ago. I may have a lot of ideas, but I’m wildly unqualified." Raising her glass to her lips again, Flora adds, "Also, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I already have a job. Queen of Torchline? Bit of a handful, that one."
Still, she sips from her drink again, entirely unbothered, as if playing barmaid-in-chief at a brothel would slot in just fine next to crown and chaos, and honestly, were it not so far away from the sun and the surf she'd probably consider it.
At the mention of Asta’s concerns, though, her expression shifts, thoughtful now, the ice in her glass swirling softly as she nods. "That makes sense." There’s no argument in her tone, only easy agreement and trust that of course Danta knows what lines not to cross when it comes to his lover.
But then she lifts her brows slightly, brushing one finger idly along the rim of her glass. "He told me he hasn’t needed blood at all this Leafchange," she murmurs, eyes narrowing just a touch. "You think that’s just the season talking, or...is it possible something’s shifting in him?" There’s no judgment in the question, just mere curiosity. Asta was Asta, but perhaps with the arrival of certain new abilities, older needs were being pushed out to make room.
