Barrow Fields a twist, a tale, a rip through my sail

*seinfeld riff*

Biological imperative was undiscriminating, rarely a thing that stood to be ignored, and not even the black gutterpup could long abstain from its dissipated draw. Her body responded to his touch with an instinctive flex of her waist, an untaught impulse against the breadth of his roving muzzle. She froze upon his intrepid approach, but came at him with no intention of hurling him to the ends of the Earth, nor with the corrective fret of teeth, but tolerance; a simple, rare mercifulness. She draped her paw across his nose, mouthed at his snout and rumbled friskily, rolling onto her back and batting his chest before leaping to her feet and romping away.

Perhaps the Sirens had more influence over her than she thought, as she led her jolly sailor boy away into the pall of shadows with her features a stretch of finger's wooing.