i can make the badguys good for a weekend
Charlie does not even try to make her legs cooperate. With a contented little sigh, she dart!s back up onto the counter instead, perching there with all the lazy satisfaction of someone who has been thoroughly ruined in the best possible way. She reaches for her sweater and pulls it over her head, the fabric settling against her skin so that the absence beneath it is unmistakable, nipples pressing lightly against the knit now that the bra is nothing but a memory and a faint scent of charred lace.
When Jack finally hands over her underwear, she grins at him fiendishly and tugs them on with all the urgency of someone who has nowhere else to be. The sound she makes afterward is indulgent and a little mournful, the sigh of someone who has just finished the best meal of their life and is both blissfully full and deeply offended that it has ended.
She tilts her head, listening to the distant, enthusiastic suffering of Bassian’s voice bleeding through the tavern walls, and laughs softly under her breath. "Oh, absolutely," she says, flashing Jack a bright smile and nodding in agreement. Then she dart!s to the door, opening it just enough to lean back against it, one shoulder braced, posture relaxed and dangerously inviting. Firelight flickers lazily above her horns, casting warm shadows as she looks back at him through her lashes. "But maybe," Charlie adds, eyes glinting, "I could interest you in that drink, if it means I get to steal another sailing lesson out of you later." Her tail gives a slow, satisfied sway behind her as the shanty crescendos outside and Charlie leads Jack back into the light.
~FIN
When Jack finally hands over her underwear, she grins at him fiendishly and tugs them on with all the urgency of someone who has nowhere else to be. The sound she makes afterward is indulgent and a little mournful, the sigh of someone who has just finished the best meal of their life and is both blissfully full and deeply offended that it has ended.
She tilts her head, listening to the distant, enthusiastic suffering of Bassian’s voice bleeding through the tavern walls, and laughs softly under her breath. "Oh, absolutely," she says, flashing Jack a bright smile and nodding in agreement. Then she dart!s to the door, opening it just enough to lean back against it, one shoulder braced, posture relaxed and dangerously inviting. Firelight flickers lazily above her horns, casting warm shadows as she looks back at him through her lashes. "But maybe," Charlie adds, eyes glinting, "I could interest you in that drink, if it means I get to steal another sailing lesson out of you later." Her tail gives a slow, satisfied sway behind her as the shanty crescendos outside and Charlie leads Jack back into the light.
~FIN
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Hella golden retriever energy. Small unrefined horns made of ruby. Regular spade-shaped tail.
