Two Eyes Cenote [m] Adder

“Doesn’t truly seem much of a bother to you,” she glares, nose gesturing once for the pouch of soiled nostrum, apparently too valuable to part with. He places something before her, a delicate pale flower with a sweet perfume- an offering of appeasement perhaps, from what was once his trove of poisons. The coy brandishes a smirk, refusing to touch anything he had to give.

“I am not asking for every horrid detail, Machiavelli,” the coy clarifies, “just the ones that might save your life.”

She stills as he begins, ears rounded and forward, cupping to attend every dark word.