[m] kings from the underground

Tatum watched with barely concealed satisfaction when he backed off, her physical 'back off' hint having obviously been caught. She could have taken it a step further and snapped her teeth together menacingly, but so long as he kept it in his pants she wouldn't have to add to the threat. Though the rebel had no qualms about tearing chunks of him out, if it were to come to that, she much more preferred that he back off before she had to make good on her threats. After all, they were pack mates, and Tatum held the doubt that FitzDutiful would be as chill as he was when they first met if she tore into this ebony male before her. Tatum was all for harmless fun but there was a clear line she drew, a line that she respected when others drew it and expected no less when applied to herself. “Just keep reminding yourself of that and you should be fine,” Tatum told him with a mischievous smile, her attitude receding like the ocean's tide. It wasn't personal … she just found her interests based more in a female lover than a male; but she had always had a particular weakness for the elegant curves and sylph-like women, even as a small child — before she'd understood sex in any sort of way.

“I'm called Tatum.” She offered, hoping that he would cease using the word 'missy', now that she'd given her name in return for his. Tatum hadn't been her name at birth, no Musette had been what her mother had called her, a nod to the musical tradition of her father's family; but Tatum had never felt like a musette. At least Tatum was unisex and worked more perfectly for her, being non-binary such as she was. Just because her parents had accepted what she was hadn't meant that the rest of Foxhound had (they hadn't); and thinking about it made unpleasant memories rise. Quickly she pushed them aside, focusing her gaze upon her companion once more. “You new here, too?” Tatum asked suddenly, desiring to distract herself from thoughts of Foxhound and her parents.