Black Morass glowbell [m]

The brindled brute smirks when he catches her pretty blue eyes when he’d caught the fish and drops it. Watches her even further as she moves out of the water slowly, murky liquid ripping around her softly. He asks her for tips and she only smirks back at him. He wonders why, but he doesn’t question it. Perhaps she’s simply enjoying his company and he won’t complain one bit. For he finds himself also enjoying her own company. 

You touch. Is all she gives him and for a second he’s confused. Touch? Touch what? The fish? His small man brain doesn’t quite get what she means by it but he doesn’t stress. Maybe she would elaborate. All he knows is that he’s definitely good at touching of a different kind; one that doesn’t involve catching fish. 

So when she whips her head from the water a few seconds later he’s clearly impressed by the fish she caught. His face shows it with raised brows and an open mouthed, wide, toothy smile. She preens at her catch too and he can’t help but feed into her confidence.

“Wow—.” He offers in excitement. His eyes relax some and take on a more sly nature. “Darling this touch you speak of seems to work. I’d say I’m skilled at it, but not of the fish catching kind.” He chuckles back shamelessly flirting with her. “Quite impressive, indeed.” He congratulates once more.