Firefly Glen [m] oh i was sure

and dare he does.
the siren call of the mauve-painted stranger pulls him in like a trance, or perhaps a high he ought not to chase; but he saunters closer to her anyway, approaching her from the flank. she is older, perhaps older than he; strong, earthen. not his usual type either, he thinks, but who was he to complain when a free meal was offered to him?
that is, if she would accept his advances. a low rumble purls from his throat in instinctive greeting, and he reaches out with the hopes of meeting his face to her nape in order to exchange scents.