[It tickles when he slides his hand up her arm; she giggles, her laughter having a buzzing, thrum-like quality to it that betrays her non-human nature. She lets him move her, stepping closer as he brushes her hair back, her eyes remaining on his as she rests the hand behind Scaramouche against his back. Who knew a metal upright could be warmer than most of the flesh-and-blood ones she's met?
She cranes her head to the side, arching her neck so that he may plant a kiss there. She's a lady with silent demands, but ones that are spoken through expression as she gives him a look that says "Well?"]
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She cranes her head to the side, arching her neck so that he may plant a kiss there. She's a lady with silent demands, but ones that are spoken through expression as she gives him a look that says "Well?"]