LaCroix gently brought his hand up to rest on the end of her shoulder, softly rubbing it with the palm of his rather large hand.
He emitted a low chuckle in his throat at her words concerning Heather’s instruction “Did she? Does she not trust me? Or she afraid I make a dish of you?” he asked in jest “I am wicked after all…I did deflower you” LaCroix certainly did have a more dark sense of humor to joke about killing and sex in the same moment. Gently he arched a brow curiously “Oh what does he write?”