And it burns like a gin and I like it,
Backflips are certainly not what she'd meant by 'unexpected talent,' and the proclamation doesn't even earn a scoff. In fact, the light fracturing on the edge of her glass is more interesting than whatever talents he thinks he might have. "And I can light you on fire without thinking. What's your point?" Her tone is flat, the violence coming easier than the breath in her lungs.
His assessment doesn't come as a surprise - the flattering words rubbing abrasive and cloying across her skin - although he's overlooking the danger simmering within her veins, the flick of her tail practically laughing at his oversight. The daggers strapped along her legs are just the tip of her skills, although she'd be happy to show him her favorite pair, the ones that would certainly stump his supposed ability to ascertain their price from the prick along his throat. Perhaps his smile and sticky fingers are hiding this stupidity.
When he leans close again, Thal turns her gaze back to him, the storm growing darker in her eyes, the sound of thunder living in their depths. When her expression finally changes, it's not a victory, it's not a reason to rejoice, it's a dare. The curve of her lips is full of malice, sharper than the blades strapped to her body or the claws hiding beneath her skin. It sends most grown men running, and her crew knows that it means a storm brews on the horizon. From between her flashing fangs, she mocks, "That's something you'll never know."
His assessment doesn't come as a surprise - the flattering words rubbing abrasive and cloying across her skin - although he's overlooking the danger simmering within her veins, the flick of her tail practically laughing at his oversight. The daggers strapped along her legs are just the tip of her skills, although she'd be happy to show him her favorite pair, the ones that would certainly stump his supposed ability to ascertain their price from the prick along his throat. Perhaps his smile and sticky fingers are hiding this stupidity.
When he leans close again, Thal turns her gaze back to him, the storm growing darker in her eyes, the sound of thunder living in their depths. When her expression finally changes, it's not a victory, it's not a reason to rejoice, it's a dare. The curve of her lips is full of malice, sharper than the blades strapped to her body or the claws hiding beneath her skin. It sends most grown men running, and her crew knows that it means a storm brews on the horizon. From between her flashing fangs, she mocks, "That's something you'll never know."
Thalassa
put your lips on my skin and you might ignite it
