Re: Second Class; Theater - Smoking Room
Her eyes watched him watch her as she moved, and if there was perhaps a hint of surprise there in the face of his regard, the glint of gold before smoky reflections was almost enough to hide it. If she perhaps hoped for less shadow from his hat, that was hidden as well, though she did reach one long finger to tip it up, just a bit, when she moved close to him again. Her eyes shifted down to the leather and firearm at his side, but she paid it little mind other than that. Though it was a part of him, who he was in this strange place, it was a thing of no concern to her.
"Doesn't everyone hi-" Opening her mouth to reply, her words were choked and stolen by the throaty purr that was given in exchange for the long, slow stroke down her back. It earned her free hand finding his arm to hang onto, strong press of fingers steadying herself but betraying a tremor of shuddering shiver. She closed her eyes and arched into it, spine a question mark of curve and tail twitching around to curl heavy and relaxed over his leg. She was pleasure in every line of her body from that simple touch, and when she turned her face toward him again, her breath curled against the side of his neck, his cheek, below his ear.
"I'm always different," she replied. Her fingers traveled, followed the opposite side of his jaw to nudge and push toward the back of his neck, curl and cradle and no sign of claw.