Blackfeather Woods [m] Gonna raise some sand in the dead o' night

All she could do was laugh about it. In the end, regardless of what happened, regardless of what he thought, regardless of what she thought, she couldn't stop herself from the amusement boiling up from her throat. Her head reared back, and they were, oh, so dry, foul, and nearly mocking in nature. Mocking of Seth? Perhaps in some ways, but most of all, to put at the top of this moment, she laughed that it even happened as an expression of her pure ecstasy. 

Fine then! He wanted, then he would receive! At every cost that came up that he was willing to go through with sent her into a hysterical giggling frenzy. One might have called it manic, but it was almost aggressive. As if she was, and because she was, laughing at the shock of it. Shock, however, she wished to see more of, all the while her body cried red onto the ground and her eyes showed joy. A show! Show! She liked shows. He'd need to show her more of them again! Rubbing her neck roughly against his own, because she wanted to, and because she desired the thrill of it, she withheld a high, desirous, messy smile.

"I can bring. I can try. You will be here?" Lifting her nose, she inhaled his scent again, to get the vague scent of other wolves picked off of him. Pry? No, but she would ask what she thought of, and how he answered was on him. Speak. Speak more. "And what of Seth then? He wouldn't put me on a time crunch, would he?" she pouted her lip, trying to sway his answer in her favor shamelessly.