Lotte believed she'd put up a good fight. Believed that she wasn't afraid to fight if he ever tried to kill her, despite whatever growing fondness she felt for him meant. She didn't rightly know that she could kill him, but she also didn't feel like it would come to that. What reason could she give for that? Alastor was as much a threat now as he'd ever been, as likely to viciously preserve his life as she was. Was there a reason she didn't feel like that mattered, between them?
It simply didn't. Maybe it was the lingering high of besting the Queen together.
Lotte looked back at him, quirking a brow at the.... multiple admissions that slipped from Alastor's mouth, coated heavy in whiskey. The fact that her blood hadn't been used, but was still tucked away in wherever it was he called home in Hell. That he expected to be here long enough for it to go bad. And perhaps most curiously that he referred to it as waiting for them. Lotte chewed on that through her own haze of whiskey-induced maudlin.
She took another puff from the cigar before plucking it out of her own mouth and setting it back in his fingers to free up her own, tugging the well-worn quilt over Alastor up to his chest. Tucking it in required her to shift onto one knee to hover over him and maybe it was the whiskey too, to blame for how much she found herself enjoying this particular arrangement.
No, he wouldn't see that blood she'd already spilled for him for some time yet.
"Whenever you like." Lotte hummed, denying him her gaze as she tucked the smoothed the quilt over him. "I'd give you some right now, if you asked."
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Lotte believed she'd put up a good fight. Believed that she wasn't afraid to fight if he ever tried to kill her, despite whatever growing fondness she felt for him meant. She didn't rightly know that she could kill him, but she also didn't feel like it would come to that. What reason could she give for that? Alastor was as much a threat now as he'd ever been, as likely to viciously preserve his life as she was. Was there a reason she didn't feel like that mattered, between them?
It simply didn't. Maybe it was the lingering high of besting the Queen together.
Lotte looked back at him, quirking a brow at the.... multiple admissions that slipped from Alastor's mouth, coated heavy in whiskey. The fact that her blood hadn't been used, but was still tucked away in wherever it was he called home in Hell. That he expected to be here long enough for it to go bad. And perhaps most curiously that he referred to it as waiting for them. Lotte chewed on that through her own haze of whiskey-induced maudlin.
She took another puff from the cigar before plucking it out of her own mouth and setting it back in his fingers to free up her own, tugging the well-worn quilt over Alastor up to his chest. Tucking it in required her to shift onto one knee to hover over him and maybe it was the whiskey too, to blame for how much she found herself enjoying this particular arrangement.
No, he wouldn't see that blood she'd already spilled for him for some time yet.
"Whenever you like." Lotte hummed, denying him her gaze as she tucked the smoothed the quilt over him. "I'd give you some right now, if you asked."