Hoshor Plains [M] On the wind

What a lack of delicacy on his part, indeed. Shinjou was not a man known for his patience, yet for the time being, he allowed her to dictate the rules of their little game. If she wished to play the noble lady, so be it—but such pretense would do well not to overstay its welcome.

Naturaly, he murmured, continuing to encircle her as she mirrored his movements, the two of them engaged in a dance—whether with or against one another, it hardly mattered. With each step, he tightened the ring, drawing the net closer, closer still.

I am but a traveler from Kodaina Tochi, he had said, his head bowed, gaze roaming across the contours of the woman who fancied herself a lady.

A weary traveler, haunted by no small number of frustrations, he added. But you seem to be in a playful mood—so I’ll play along.

To him, it was clear as day: the so-called lady was a courtesan, testing his nerves with deliberate grace. Some of them played at innocence—for there were men who craved that illusion to soothe their pride. Shinjou was not among them. He was a man who preferred directness.
Still, if this was her chosen form of art, he would allow it—for a while. Until he obtained what he had come for.

Then, abruptly, he stopped. A subtle shift, a change of course—and now he moved beside her, flank brushing against flank, head still lowered, his nose gently pressing into the softness of her chest.

Let me walk you home. Let us be done with this, he said simply. Lead the way.