Kaisel
Heaven help me, the devil wears lace and she can't be tamed
With it being prime bikini season, and Flora a strong supporter of Torchline culture (read, clothing is always optional), the display of her chest in a bra seems like it should not hold the power over him it once used to. In truth, the source of her power has nothing to do with thread count. She could wear a hazmat suit and he'd still be drawn to the flash of her smile behind the visor, and surely find some manner of curve to delightfully assess. It's not her body, or however much of it he can see, it's her. From pinky toe to hair follicles on her scalp, he loves every inch of her so completely, he's very much at her mercy if she ever chooses to wield her abilities on him. Which she does, often, and now.
He inhales sharply when he turns to face her, brandishing his last guess like a hail mary right before tilting into all out war. Not the flag of surrender, to be sure, but the shot he shoots just because he has the ball still. Gods, he nearly does lift up his shirt and wave it though when he finds her equally as stripped, and his lip twitches with the effort of a swallow. Her voice is a quick reminder that she is still the enemy. "No!" he laughs, loud and high and clearly put on as he tries to pass off the attempt as nothing more than an obvious joke. "Pfffft, who would guess that." He raspberries the air, grip tightening around his shirt.
Spice rises then, enough casual drift in her flight that he doesn't give in to the immediate suspicion that she is a missile being sent his way to not only bar his entry, but escort him away from the premises entirely. His gaze tracks her, brows rising curiously as she comes in close, grabbing at his most important possession. He's inclined to draw it back to his chest, to curl it in and protect it, especially when the cord snaps against his skin like a personally delivered flick. He's spent enough time with the dragon now though to know her intents, and this is not her in mischief mode, at least not against him.
His expression tightens on the blue band, thoughts rolling over it in quick succession. Hairtie, wedding band, married, wife, happy ever after. He blinks up with the faintest startle when Flora's sharp reprimand cuts across them. He can't contain the grin that sinks his concentration, and softly he whispers out to Spice, "you're the best girl." Leaning around her, he shouts back at Flora a petulant, "I'm not!" Technically, one could argue Spice came from inside the club, hence she was not outside assistance.
Proudly, he fists his hands on both hips and plants his feet. "The password is, I love you."
He inhales sharply when he turns to face her, brandishing his last guess like a hail mary right before tilting into all out war. Not the flag of surrender, to be sure, but the shot he shoots just because he has the ball still. Gods, he nearly does lift up his shirt and wave it though when he finds her equally as stripped, and his lip twitches with the effort of a swallow. Her voice is a quick reminder that she is still the enemy. "No!" he laughs, loud and high and clearly put on as he tries to pass off the attempt as nothing more than an obvious joke. "Pfffft, who would guess that." He raspberries the air, grip tightening around his shirt.
Spice rises then, enough casual drift in her flight that he doesn't give in to the immediate suspicion that she is a missile being sent his way to not only bar his entry, but escort him away from the premises entirely. His gaze tracks her, brows rising curiously as she comes in close, grabbing at his most important possession. He's inclined to draw it back to his chest, to curl it in and protect it, especially when the cord snaps against his skin like a personally delivered flick. He's spent enough time with the dragon now though to know her intents, and this is not her in mischief mode, at least not against him.
His expression tightens on the blue band, thoughts rolling over it in quick succession. Hairtie, wedding band, married, wife, happy ever after. He blinks up with the faintest startle when Flora's sharp reprimand cuts across them. He can't contain the grin that sinks his concentration, and softly he whispers out to Spice, "you're the best girl." Leaning around her, he shouts back at Flora a petulant, "I'm not!" Technically, one could argue Spice came from inside the club, hence she was not outside assistance.
Proudly, he fists his hands on both hips and plants his feet. "The password is, I love you."
Let me see the good girl you wanted to be. All of my praise, only from me.
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
