Lion Head Mesa blood & bone

he doesn't revel in the wash of glory. perhaps there is humbleness in the places tuna would be afraid to look. there it is again, words that cause a burning on her cheeks and her ears once again come to stretch outward in an flustered spectacle. "ah can only do so much as'a fellahin. ahm sh'ure she feels safe'r wit such strong protection."

it feels like there could be a secret consequence for teetering on this edge with the crocodile king. there could be a trap door and tuna could fall through and be nothing more than lunch. but is that the worse thing to be? to be consumed by the air and teeth of a strong figure before her? impure thoughts...

"an' we need yew tah feel well-cared fer, tew." a bold (and tiny) step forward, coming to make sure the plate is pushed out of the way. "is'that somethin ah do fer yew?" she comes to seek his icy gaze, wondering if her warmth would come to melt them.

secretly scheming a possible hoe phase for tuna BAHA