fluttering your lashes like ashes and embers

Lotte didn't give up any ground as he moved in closer, despite the traitorous blush that crept up her neck to her cheeks and spread over them. That... would be a problem. She'd really have to figure out how to get that under control because there was no way he couldn't see it. A thick swallow followed Alastor's inhale and the briefest flutter of his eyes. Could he smell it, too?

She'd really have to deal with this development and soon. Lotte steadfastly reminded herself that Alastor only seemed so interested in order to avoid going to bed. And that just wouldn't do.

But first, there was the more pressing issue of getting a particularly ornery demon into said bed.

"I highly doubt you've ever been content, Alastor."

She leaned back a bit, heaved a long-suffering sigh, "but if you insist and it'll get you to sleep a little, I'll appease you."

Lotte turned and walked away from him, and she could feel her hair catch against the fabric of his shirt at his shoulder as she did. A few steps took her to the center of the room and Lotte grasped at the circular latch that sat atop the door leading to the small cellar underneath the cabin. It took a few pulls to wrench it up, and she descended the stairs, conjuring a bit of flame in her hand to light the way.

From the depths of the cabin appeared half a dozen jars of strawberry jam as Lotte lined them up along the mouth of the basement's opening.

The next item that appeared was a jar about half the size, covered in sigils, and filled three quarters of the way full with Lotte's blood.

She finally appeared herself a moment later, a sharply curved sickle grasped in her hand. Lotte climbed back up the steps and pushed the cellar door closed, setting the sickle on the table.

"...I may have downplayed the level of interesting here, come to think of it," Lotte hummed, looking the sickle, back at the jar of blood and then finally up at him. chuckling a bit.