you can call me honey if you want
At the fourth use of the word, Flora recoils like he’s just lobbed a dead fish at her instead of a compliment. One hand flies dramatically to her stomach, the other to her forehead, eyes narrowing like she might faint right off the table. "GODS, Kaisel," she groans, as if she’s never been more scandalised in her life. "I'm never having sex with you again." But the grin tugging at the corner of her mouth says otherwise, and the way she lets her eyes travel down his body and then back up, slow and deliberate, says she knows he’ll test that threat and come out the easy victor.
Still, she manages to conjure a vague air of aloofness, shoulder tilting in a breezy little shrug as she glances out one window. "Only most of the nude parts revolve around you," she concedes with faux casualness. "I kept plenty for myself." Then her head cants, blonde curls bobbing slightly with the motion as one brow arches and her eyes flicker back to him; inviting, teasing, suggestive as hell, content to let his mind wander, knowing where that particular road would lead.
As Kaisel goes all wide-eyed at her not-so-gentle accusation, Flora doesn’t flinch. In fact, she meets his stare like a battle-hardened queen staring down a court jester, nodding solemnly as if bestowing some sacred truth. "Mmhm, and based on everything you’ve said so far?" A small wave of her hand, elegant and dismissive, as if wafting through all his prior uses of the word girthy. "The shoe seems to fit." Or the circumference.
At his horrified gasp over the potential cropping of precious wardrobe pieces, Flora scoffs, scandalised in her own right now. "As if I’d wear anything with my dads’ faces on it,"y she says, nearly gagging on the thought. "Mum’s the only exception—obviously—but if I crop it, I can just get you another one." She waves him off like that’s the easiest solution in the world. "Pretty sure there’s a box of old merch tucked away at their place from when it all first came out."
As her hand is snatched back and he grumbles about being interrupted, Flora lifts her chin with regal hauteur and issues a loud HMMMPH. "You didn’t seem too bothered being harASSed earlier," she points out, hitting the syllable hard enough to make it gleam. She lets him reclaim her hand without resistance, but her smile twists, wicked and knowing. Even if he’s pretending to be too focused to meet her gaze, she knows exactly the kind of look he’s not seeing.
"More face-to-face time?" she echoes with an incredulous, singsong lilt. "Clingy much?" But it’s all mischief and delight, her thumb brushing lightly against his knuckles. She’s teasing, not protesting, not even close, because truth be told, all she’s wanted lately was more of him. More of these slow afternoons and shared laughter and ridiculous plans she now fully believed would all come true. "I guess I could make room in my schedule for you," she allows, breathy and mock-busy, before her grin grows positively filthy. "Especially since I’ve got a few new ideas I wanted to run by you." The implication is not subtle about what the context of those ideas might be, and she doesn’t want it to be.
At the flash of colour, Flora eyes the bottles thoughtfully. Then she nods, waggling her fingers like a queen granting royal permission. "Nude nails and red toes," she agrees with a pleased hum. "Polish at will."
Still, she manages to conjure a vague air of aloofness, shoulder tilting in a breezy little shrug as she glances out one window. "Only most of the nude parts revolve around you," she concedes with faux casualness. "I kept plenty for myself." Then her head cants, blonde curls bobbing slightly with the motion as one brow arches and her eyes flicker back to him; inviting, teasing, suggestive as hell, content to let his mind wander, knowing where that particular road would lead.
As Kaisel goes all wide-eyed at her not-so-gentle accusation, Flora doesn’t flinch. In fact, she meets his stare like a battle-hardened queen staring down a court jester, nodding solemnly as if bestowing some sacred truth. "Mmhm, and based on everything you’ve said so far?" A small wave of her hand, elegant and dismissive, as if wafting through all his prior uses of the word girthy. "The shoe seems to fit." Or the circumference.
At his horrified gasp over the potential cropping of precious wardrobe pieces, Flora scoffs, scandalised in her own right now. "As if I’d wear anything with my dads’ faces on it,"y she says, nearly gagging on the thought. "Mum’s the only exception—obviously—but if I crop it, I can just get you another one." She waves him off like that’s the easiest solution in the world. "Pretty sure there’s a box of old merch tucked away at their place from when it all first came out."
As her hand is snatched back and he grumbles about being interrupted, Flora lifts her chin with regal hauteur and issues a loud HMMMPH. "You didn’t seem too bothered being harASSed earlier," she points out, hitting the syllable hard enough to make it gleam. She lets him reclaim her hand without resistance, but her smile twists, wicked and knowing. Even if he’s pretending to be too focused to meet her gaze, she knows exactly the kind of look he’s not seeing.
"More face-to-face time?" she echoes with an incredulous, singsong lilt. "Clingy much?" But it’s all mischief and delight, her thumb brushing lightly against his knuckles. She’s teasing, not protesting, not even close, because truth be told, all she’s wanted lately was more of him. More of these slow afternoons and shared laughter and ridiculous plans she now fully believed would all come true. "I guess I could make room in my schedule for you," she allows, breathy and mock-busy, before her grin grows positively filthy. "Especially since I’ve got a few new ideas I wanted to run by you." The implication is not subtle about what the context of those ideas might be, and she doesn’t want it to be.
At the flash of colour, Flora eyes the bottles thoughtfully. Then she nods, waggling her fingers like a queen granting royal permission. "Nude nails and red toes," she agrees with a pleased hum. "Polish at will."
