Honeyed Pasture nightking

hit with the proverbial 'i'm sorry i can't be her,' all lionel could do was gape after the pretty girl who had unwound like a length of silken ribbon and disappeared into the seaside field. in the next, the autumnbound chica was speaking to him, and his head snapped back to her with a helpless wilt of the ears.
"uh, lionel. lionel mayfair," he recovered, fighting the urge to search beyond her pretty shoulder for the shadowbound cougar he had come across before. "what's yours?" the roguish grin charging in after, saving his ass.