Ravensblood Forest I Will Walk 500 More!

he smirks. oh, yes, this is a game he quite enjoys. though not as malicious as his fair sister in his pursuits, samothes loves the delicate dance of flirtation, of turning phrase until bodies come to meet. "i like what my eye already meets," he hums, meeting engel's raised paw with a forward step of his own, drawing them close yet again, so that should engel make the move they'll be nearly touching. "tell me, engel, are you a good boy?" his smirk widens -- although this close, he detects faintly a familiar scent on the man's coat, but he can't quite place it. odd.