Starglow Basin your bloodstains on my custom coutures

He indulges in her game, eyes following his want, teeth dipping below dark lips in amusement. The basin under sunlight was no particular sight to behold. The ocelote stops short to admire her better from a distance.

“You lie, Fiamma,” he sets between them before a smirk, folding back into the foot-trail beside her.

“Sí. Old friends.” Amusement again. He and Soto were more reluctant associates, brought together through mutual aims. But that was their business. The red eyes gleam aside over the graceful femininity of Fiamma.

“Do you always make yourself a spectacle for men?”