Lion Head Mesa Hate [m]e baby, maybe I'm a piece of art

I will, Melody promised with only a brief glance and a sideways smile spared for Khusobek, a moment's pause in her lazy preening of her ruffled fur. And she would seek him again, but for now the priestess only watched him go, warm with her own satisfaction. She would stay there awhile longer, straightening the mess he'd made of her fur. Then she would find her room, and spend some time lying there, staring at the ceiling and thinking on all that had happened.

Most of all, she wondered if Khusobek had been able to tell that — well, that she had never done that before.