Hideaway Strath maybe my hearing ain’t 20/20 no more

Lotte is spoiling for a fight.

Whether it's the continued heartbreak of being parted from her kaksonen or the perceived slight, her itchy paws or her growing sense of ennui, doesn't matter — she wants to wrinkle her muzzle at Ceannasach and fit him with the ugly she feels encased in. She feels fat and stagnant and out of place, and Hemlock's slender, tensile beauty mocks her. Venom pools upon the readied curve of her tongue, and unseen, her lips wrinkle to reveal her upper canines in a manner that is almost vampiric. She ignores his sweet words as tension builds in her body, but she stops preening warmly at his fur. The ruse is over; they both know it.

"Why was it not your mouth saying it first?" she demands of him, but she knows that whatever his answer is, it won't make her feel better. There's a fight brewing in her, and his gift for diplomacy is the one thing that might be able to talk her down — but that in itself is infuriating. It'll still be there, waiting for her to weaken enough to let it break free.

Torn between the desire to make a scene and the reluctance to draw attention to her emotional instability, "Play with me," Lotte begs, circling back around him to nip with spiced fervor at the curve of his haunch. Her touch is gentle and flirtatious; she's pulling her punches. Perhaps the entreaty to play seems utterly incongruous, but Lotte has always been a very physical creature; in her own way, she tries to find peace with the situation and with her husband's silence by venting her frustration in mock combat. In the tundra, a good brawl can solve a lot of problems — and wrestling with Dagfinn always did improve the soturi's capricious moods.  Sometimes the fact that Arturo isn't Dagfinn drives Lotte crazy.