Kintla Flatlands it's the hap-happiest season of all.

The silver spitfire knew no shame on the subject, and rather than balk at his hinted suggestion earlier, she went willingly with it -- and, of course, took it a pace even further. "Really," he mused, his aqua eyes studying her with no true emotion upon his features. It seemed strange to him that standing before him, shame could flood his cheeks at even considering her proposition when he was tied to no one -- a free agent, so to speak. And yet guilt did find him for even participating in the conversation, and his mind flashed with three particular females that he somehow felt had betrayed by even doing so.

Finally, with an amused shake of his head, the regal shrugged his shoulders. "You win -- I tap out," he rumbled, releasing a gentle sigh. She knew she had him -- she was simply waiting for him to break. "Someone back home means a little too much to me to even have a conversation like this," he offered, his tail giving an idle flick. Someone? Or a few someones?