flora
She gives Neron a slow, feline smile; head tilted, brow arched like she’s measuring the exact level of mischief he can handle. "I have black stilettos, of course. But the glow-in-the-dark corset is an obnoxious seafoam green. Like someone drowned a mint leaf in glitter." She shrugs, not even a little apologetic, despite her assumption that Neron would likely prefer her clad in his preferred colour of black.
The mention of the Grounds shifts her mood in a heartbeat. Flora draws in a soft breath, the sweetness of wine and chocolate suddenly too thick. Her lashes lower slightly as she nods, the understanding in her gaze saying more than any hasty apology could. "Right, of course," is all she says.
At his sigh and devilish murmur, however, her eyes lift again, sharp and playful all at once. "Remi doesn’t need to know a damn thing about it," she says breezily, like it’s the easiest solution in the world. She doesn’t mention Kaisel, because no, he probably wouldn't find it fun to coordinate a night out for a man who just suggested she slap him across the face in stilettos.
Still, her grin returns in full force as she leans in ever so slightly. "I prefer to be watched," she says, voice dropping to a purr of her own, "rather than do the watching. Sorry." And with that, she slips another spoonful of sundae into her mouth, unconcerned with the way the chocolate clings to her lower lip before vanishing entirely.
The mention of the Grounds shifts her mood in a heartbeat. Flora draws in a soft breath, the sweetness of wine and chocolate suddenly too thick. Her lashes lower slightly as she nods, the understanding in her gaze saying more than any hasty apology could. "Right, of course," is all she says.
At his sigh and devilish murmur, however, her eyes lift again, sharp and playful all at once. "Remi doesn’t need to know a damn thing about it," she says breezily, like it’s the easiest solution in the world. She doesn’t mention Kaisel, because no, he probably wouldn't find it fun to coordinate a night out for a man who just suggested she slap him across the face in stilettos.
Still, her grin returns in full force as she leans in ever so slightly. "I prefer to be watched," she says, voice dropping to a purr of her own, "rather than do the watching. Sorry." And with that, she slips another spoonful of sundae into her mouth, unconcerned with the way the chocolate clings to her lower lip before vanishing entirely.
you don't know that you're living til' you're carrying scars
you're either falling in love or falling apart
you're either falling in love or falling apart
