Firefly Ravine (m) who says I like right angles?

They study one-another.

What might he find? The seasalt in her coat, the sweetness of maple, maybe fading notes of others. The old man, the angry shadow.

He smells... sweet. Sanja cannot place why it is a familiar scent that pulls at her core; it is wholly out-of-place for such a rugged looking man. Milk?

Her scent is stronger. The yearning returns suddenly and as she feels the need for him closer, closer - she hums an invitation for his ears only.