Moonspear is this the death of a bachelor?

Hydra waved her plume at his words. I feel... different, she remarked, but not in a bad way, not irritable. I feel good... I think better, she drawled as Hydra thought of how to describe to him what, exactly, it was she felt. Hydra's ears flicked atop her crown. It was a pleasant haze that covered her, and she felt every bit of her desiring the proximity of someone—Terance, now.

His words registered too late, but Hydra found herself not minding at all. Her wish had been granted; she felt him, and he was the feeling of warm water spreading on cold skin. She rolled easily, thawing, a breathy laugh coming forth from her. She was beneath him, and her forelegs pressed against his chest. Hydra grinned from where she lay and furrowed her brows, though there was a grin that presented itself as she spoke: Are you telling me I look like a snack? she quipped, tail waving. Of course he thought so. She was Lyra's spitting image. Though he had spoken to Alya about his feelings, he had never been so direct with her... not that she could think of presently. Maybe he had? Her mind was in such a fog, that pleasant one, that truth be told it was difficult to recollect much but what was going on this very second.