Sleeping Dragon what you need is an older guy,

considering the question, the bluntness of it sparking the faintest curl of her lips—not in anger, but in something darker, something amused.

some of them, she rumbles, and says: others... men who thought they were strong. fools who didn’t know when to run.

her tail flicks, a sharp, dismissive motion as her gaze turns back to the distance, the faintest glint of something—pride, perhaps, or satisfaction—shimmering behind her scarlet eyes.

the sea gave me some, too. but the worst scars are the ones no one sees, strange girl.