Never one to turn down an invitation to sit, you settle into the space in the sand, grunting softly as you distribute weight briefly on your bum right arm. The fire to your back is warm and pleasant; you sigh contentedly, stretching your legs out and pushing your toes into the sand. "Not a bad spot."
The challenge makes you raise an eyebrow appreciatively, half-turning to look at her, the cursed scar still not quite visible. "Aye, that so? An' here I thought that sharin' was carin'." Mock-wounded, you shake your head. "S'pose appealin' to your good nature an' generosity isn't gonna work? In which case, what does a lady like you want on a night like this?"
Zephyr
you can be the ripest, juciest peach in the world
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
