you can call me honey if you want
Flora’s laugh bubbles up like champagne fizz, light and bright as her shoulders lift in a shrug that feigns innocence but can’t quite suppress the wicked little gleam in her eyes. "I just assumed the we in spa day meant you were partaking too," she muses, voice thick with false contrition and amusement, though her grin says she’s absolutely not sorry for the misunderstanding. Her brow arches higher still as he clarifies the staff structure—his grin like a tip jar, already rattling with suggestion—and she meets it with one of her own, wicked as a flame curling under paper. "Well, if you’re expected to survive off tips alone..." she says slowly, drawing out the words like a promise as her lashes lower in time with her smirk, "I guess I should be expecting a really exceptional level of service."
There’s something more molten behind her smile as it slips wider, toothy and dangerous in the way only affection can be, her eyes locking on his with heat and humour twined together like silk and rope. "But if your dedication to making me feel good is anything like it was last night—" (or honestly, anytime, lets be real). Her voice lilts like it’s balancing on a seesaw of tease and truth, before she tips the scales entirely, "—I think you’ll find the gratuity more than generous."
His gaze sweeps over her with the kind of warmth that makes her blush for real this time, a soft bloom rising to her cheeks that rounds them with restrained joy, her heart suddenly too full to stay entirely cool.
As Kaisel explains the plate logic with all the gravity of a war council, Flora listens with a sage nod that masks the curl of her lips. The instant he leans forward to snag a piece of bacon, she moves. Not to stop him, but to catch his hand mid-reach with her fingers wrapping around his. He'd said to nibble on whatever she wanted, and that of course, was him. Whether or not she manages to grab his hand, she watches him with eyes that gleam like ocean glass as she rolls a slice of pancake inside a strip of bacon and pops it into her mouth, chewing with exaggerated delight before sliding the tray gently to the side. "You’re the best."
Padding out from beneath the blankets, the oversized shirt she’s wearing slips over one shoulder, printed with the faded logo of a Stormbreak training gym that still smells like Kai. She crosses the space to him slowly, bare legs brushing against his knees as she cups his face in both hands. Tilting his head up, she leans down and presses a kiss to his mouth, warm and slow and syrup-sweet, her lips soft against his in the quiet way joy sometimes shows itself when words fall short.
There’s something more molten behind her smile as it slips wider, toothy and dangerous in the way only affection can be, her eyes locking on his with heat and humour twined together like silk and rope. "But if your dedication to making me feel good is anything like it was last night—" (or honestly, anytime, lets be real). Her voice lilts like it’s balancing on a seesaw of tease and truth, before she tips the scales entirely, "—I think you’ll find the gratuity more than generous."
His gaze sweeps over her with the kind of warmth that makes her blush for real this time, a soft bloom rising to her cheeks that rounds them with restrained joy, her heart suddenly too full to stay entirely cool.
As Kaisel explains the plate logic with all the gravity of a war council, Flora listens with a sage nod that masks the curl of her lips. The instant he leans forward to snag a piece of bacon, she moves. Not to stop him, but to catch his hand mid-reach with her fingers wrapping around his. He'd said to nibble on whatever she wanted, and that of course, was him. Whether or not she manages to grab his hand, she watches him with eyes that gleam like ocean glass as she rolls a slice of pancake inside a strip of bacon and pops it into her mouth, chewing with exaggerated delight before sliding the tray gently to the side. "You’re the best."
Padding out from beneath the blankets, the oversized shirt she’s wearing slips over one shoulder, printed with the faded logo of a Stormbreak training gym that still smells like Kai. She crosses the space to him slowly, bare legs brushing against his knees as she cups his face in both hands. Tilting his head up, she leans down and presses a kiss to his mouth, warm and slow and syrup-sweet, her lips soft against his in the quiet way joy sometimes shows itself when words fall short.
