death by numbers

AISHA

my lovely prey, i'm a cliche

Aisha's lips pursed into a pout as she pretended to mull over his response, a hum buzzing in her chest. "I guess not, and gods forbid I have to pay to play with you," she replied, watching with a gleam in her eyes as he moved from his beam. The darting hand caught her attention, but too late. His fingers met her side, to which Aisha gave a quick gasp then with an amused scowl thunked his forehead with his index finger.

"Careful love, I do bite," she said, drawing her hand back to rest it on her hip. Her own cheeky grin settled across her face, her chin tilted slightly up with a playful indignance.

for us, the bourgeoisie, so care free