Ravensblood Forest the one minute. the soldier's minute

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He felt the feline-akin motions of her skull and muzzle rubbing against his chest and though it was an usual form of touching he obliged her. It wasn't as if he minded. His name was hesitant as it left her lips and though idly he wondered if she realized it the smile she offered him stole his breath from his lungs. The small, quiet breath he took was greedy, drawing in the mixture of their scents so he might imprint it upon his memory like a favorite cologne. Musk and sandalwood mixed with the most decadent hint of vanilla, something soft and pleasant. Her admittance drew a sage nod from the gangster, who allowed her to step towards him once more, reveling in the touch of her muzzle against his collarbone.

Arturo didn't press and allowed her to change the subject, the breath from her murmured words against his fur and flesh causing a soft shiver to slither down his spine. It nearly distracted him from listening to her actual words. Yet, her following words spared him the need to ask her to repeat. She had yet to sing for him, it was true, and he so loved her voice. Though there was a slight fear that swelled within his chest. He believed that hearing her sing for Chusi and Doe at the Den Night had been the initial cause of his bewitchment to her. There were undeniable feelings blossoming for her already and Arturo did not see the harm in allowing her to sing for him. He wanted to hear it. How much more deeper could he fall? he wondered.

“I feel as if I should be offended that I was not the first you sang for,” He teased her, his accented voice deep like the rumble of thunder on a gathering storm, but the tease to mimic her own was very evident in the light, buoyant way in which he spoke. Evidenced by the smile that had begun tugging at the corners of his lips. Just for her. “but they say you should save the best for last,” The gangster jested with a chuckle and a smooth rise and fall of his svelte, albeit broad shoulders. “So sing for me, my beautiful nightingale.” He purled in a whisper and an encouraging and slightly mischievous glint to his eye(s). He wasn't sure the origin of his sudden nickname for her but as it felt right the articulate gangster allowed it to flow off his tongue like honey.

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