ISLA
"I thought so," Isla says, glad to tie that part of the conversation off with a bow. No need to think of tigers shredding your arm to pieces and rolling you under a hedge for centuries, not when there are god-blessed rooms and the chance to get hammered. Right? Right.
Still, as she glances back at him (cheerful and energetic again, and Isla barely has a chance to hang on for the ride), a flush suffuses her cheeks. "I didn't mean it like that," she says, smacking his arm for good measure; it doesn't matter, it's the metal one.
But then suddenly he's leaning in closer, and she's not quite leaning away. Still, her blue eyes narrow a fraction. "Don't be crude," she quips. "I have used it twice, no more, no less. Everyone has needs."
Still, as she glances back at him (cheerful and energetic again, and Isla barely has a chance to hang on for the ride), a flush suffuses her cheeks. "I didn't mean it like that," she says, smacking his arm for good measure; it doesn't matter, it's the metal one.
But then suddenly he's leaning in closer, and she's not quite leaning away. Still, her blue eyes narrow a fraction. "Don't be crude," she quips. "I have used it twice, no more, no less. Everyone has needs."
she's a runner
rebel, and a stunner
rebel, and a stunner
