Lion Head Mesa stele

He desired to be preened with compliments and fancy—and so she indulged him so an extent, primarily keen on returning to her soldier before his frayed nerves imploded everything he stood for. The Pharaoh was quick to reveal to her that as he believed his pack was blessed, he had the means to share his gifts to the world.

Honeyed words with a lovely outward meaning—spoken much like the spider to the fly as he wove an intricate web. She simply could not quite understand just who he was hoping to capture in it—nor why.

His eyes remained fast upon her. No rush given in their company—he seemed content to simply introduce himself to her and learn of her—all while partaking in a drink that warmed her to her toes.

“My leadership will be appreciative of the gesture,” she spoke softly, reiterating—still curious to just what price tag might loom on these supposed gifts. What possibly could she be getting Tamar and Arsenio into?

A silver paw lifted to gently rub at her cheek momentarily, fatigue pulling at her, but outwardly she ignored such demand on her body. This was not what she had expected to be doing into the evening—and when he asked what it was she desired to take with her, the sliver of a coy smile pressed to her lips. “My solider,” she all but purred without a thought on it, but her shoulders lifted in a gentle shrug. “But I am a patient woman, and when his duty here is ended, we will have our time together once more.”