the next best thing will do

i can make the badguys good for a weekend

Charlie lifts a brow at that, slow and deliberate, the gesture carrying far more meaning than the movement deserves. Her shoulders roll in a coy little shrug, fire whispering along her skin like it’s in on the joke. "I’ll take that as a compliment, then," she says lightly, blue eyes smouldering as they linger on him. There’s amusement there, certainly, but also something appraising, like she’s testing the edges of him just to see where they give, if at all. "You don’t strike me as the sort of man who gets surprised easily."

His words about breaking waves catch, though, snagging her attention the way a spark finds dry tinder. Charlie’s grin turns mischievous, sharp at the corners, and she leans forward across the table. The fire around her responds instinctively, flaring just a touch brighter, fingertips glowing as she braces her hands against the wood. "Until they break," she echoes, head tilting as if she’s tasting the idea, ruby horns catching sharply on the firelight.

Her tail curls lazily beneath the table, and she looks at him through her lashes, all challenge and invitation braided together. "Is that always how you sail, Jack?" she asks softly, voice warm and dangerous, "with the intention of breaking every wave beneath you?"

.