09-11-2023, 08:07 PM
Ori smirked at him over the lip of her glass. “No, not transparent. But I know the kind of attention Nox attracts. And seems you’ve answered the question now anyway, sweetheart.” Her gaze flicked to the tug he’d given to his sleeves, and she hummed genuine laughter for how absurdly easy that had been. Though his description set her cold for the completely casual way he said it. He was one of the dangerous ones, then. No little strings of empathy to tug on, even if he wore those souls like millstones. And probably too stubbornly experienced to rise to the bait of a fight he wasn’t going to be able to win.
Still, she finally turned in interest, body angled towards him. There was a distant hiss in her head, demanding reparation for oaths made. Like she could fucking forget. Meanwhile her gaze took him in in a very slow and thorough fashion, because if he was silver-haired he was not unattractive, and that cold sense of danger crooked its finger to her senses like little else. Scars traced the outside of her leg, one currently crossed over the other, ending in wicked sharp heels. Her dress was a dark temptation of curves. There was something to be said in the appeal of fucking someone who wanted to kill you. Or knew they should anyway. But he didn’t look at her like that, and it deadened the appeal of rooting around in his head for a trigger. Unhooking the moral inhibitions of this kind of man might only end in a bullet between the eyes, not the heat, carnality, and guilt that would have made it fun.
“Seems you’ve a lot to catch up on if you don’t know his sister’s dead. A scene might liven my evening up.” She didn’t say it was Nox she was waiting on. He might not even show. They sparred together frequently, and she knew he came here often for pain and forgetting and feeding the urges in his head. But it's not like she kept tabs on him, and he was still hung up on Rafael, which just as often made his company a dull thing. She leaned to offer a drag on Mikhail’s smoke. “Do you have a name? I presume you know mine.”
Still, she finally turned in interest, body angled towards him. There was a distant hiss in her head, demanding reparation for oaths made. Like she could fucking forget. Meanwhile her gaze took him in in a very slow and thorough fashion, because if he was silver-haired he was not unattractive, and that cold sense of danger crooked its finger to her senses like little else. Scars traced the outside of her leg, one currently crossed over the other, ending in wicked sharp heels. Her dress was a dark temptation of curves. There was something to be said in the appeal of fucking someone who wanted to kill you. Or knew they should anyway. But he didn’t look at her like that, and it deadened the appeal of rooting around in his head for a trigger. Unhooking the moral inhibitions of this kind of man might only end in a bullet between the eyes, not the heat, carnality, and guilt that would have made it fun.
“Seems you’ve a lot to catch up on if you don’t know his sister’s dead. A scene might liven my evening up.” She didn’t say it was Nox she was waiting on. He might not even show. They sparred together frequently, and she knew he came here often for pain and forgetting and feeding the urges in his head. But it's not like she kept tabs on him, and he was still hung up on Rafael, which just as often made his company a dull thing. She leaned to offer a drag on Mikhail’s smoke. “Do you have a name? I presume you know mine.”
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