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βͺ With a coy tilt of his head, as if deliberately fishing for a reaction, his off-hand smoothly slid into place to anchor her position, making her wholly secure within his embrace. β«
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Turns out you're remarkably affectionate when the alternative is cracking your skull.
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Donβt be so hasty β¦ Iβve got an eye for this sort of thing. Sit tight, chew the fat.
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My shame, or lack thereof, is the only thing preventing the contents of your skull from spilling out.
βͺ In increments, his grasp is undone and as such, her incline grows all the more exaggerated. So as to obey her wishes, heβs facetiously contemplates dropping her. β«
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If you knew the outcome, whyβd you fix your lips to pose such a meaningless question? Sounds to me like youβre beginning to fancy futility.
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You sure? An awful long fall, Iβd wager, though, yet againβ¦ I never was a betting man.
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Oh, no, don't tell me we're getting stage fright now. You were doing so wellβ¦
βͺ With an unspooling, effortless motion, his free hand slips from underneath her bundle of lace and allows it to dangle limply from his grasp. β«
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βͺ He remains firmly planted, and all the more committed to his cause of stirring about ire in the captive witch. He sweeps his leg from below her ankle and seizes her mid plummetββall in a single breath. β«
Why must we part ways? Donβt I just sweep you off your feet?
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βͺ He dipped his chin and cocked his head at an angle, staring down at his unlikely confidant with a faux-puzzled gaze that felt entirely too sardonic to be genuine. β«
You were saying something?
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