Thunder Dome Thymós

This girl combatted him with a quirked brow and a scolding wag of her paw. The words that fell from her lips left in a way that was so bubbly, so unbothered, that Antigone could only scowl, slightly slack-jawed.

What secret was there to picking lavender? Wasn’t it selfish to hide away the garden of herbs?

The girl prompted that he educate her on the other uses for the plant. The mirroring of his shrug and the pressing of her eyes made his skin crawl. Antigone sat himself, tail tucked neatly at his side. The dark blue of his eyes remained fixed on her face. He couldn’t fathom how all women seemed to have a knack for agitating him. It seemed as though they had been blessed with gifts meant only for riling him up.

Sure, you get to keep your secrets but you expect me to spill mine? Seems fair.

The red-hood lifted up defiantly.

What now, flower girl?