[size=9pt]Huh. He's realizing more about her by the second. How easily she startles, how she won't look him straight in the eye, how she's so wholly innocent. He feels like if he brushes off her he'll instantly corrupt her and he doesn't really want that. It simultaneously makes him feel hesitant and giddy, and he eyes her awkward smile and outright laughs. This kid-- she's his opposite in every single way.
But then Moon sees her chew her lip, and her choice of game, and he raises a brow and now he's laughing again. Maybe they're not that different; he can tell whats on her mind. Rolling his gaze away from hers, he returns to watching the old, knitted web in the corner and speaks. "Good choice." A safe one, at least. He stares for a while, pondering, before coming up with an idea. "Okay. Would you rather give Feathers a mud massage, or--" the lion pauses, a literal giggle escaping his throat as he thinks of Yesterday's scenario, "Me."
His words end with a resounding sense of finality, and he flashes a grin. The lions golden cheeks are red underneath, but not so much with bashfulness as with the general heat of the fucking cage of a room they're in. Moon's used to saying shit like this, anyway. It's how he ends up in trouble.
But then he spots the snacks she's pulled from her satchel -- God bless that thing -- and a part of him regrets putting her on the spot, because he hasn't eaten in a while and his lips are starting to get chapped, too. It's literally impossible for Imperia to climb any higher on his list of favorite people. He takes a bite of one she offers, and it's bliss. "Jesus. Who sent you? Is this the grooming process? Are you guys fattening me up for the oven? Because it's not gonna' work. I've got a fast metabolism."
But then Moon sees her chew her lip, and her choice of game, and he raises a brow and now he's laughing again. Maybe they're not that different; he can tell whats on her mind. Rolling his gaze away from hers, he returns to watching the old, knitted web in the corner and speaks. "Good choice." A safe one, at least. He stares for a while, pondering, before coming up with an idea. "Okay. Would you rather give Feathers a mud massage, or--" the lion pauses, a literal giggle escaping his throat as he thinks of Yesterday's scenario, "Me."
His words end with a resounding sense of finality, and he flashes a grin. The lions golden cheeks are red underneath, but not so much with bashfulness as with the general heat of the fucking cage of a room they're in. Moon's used to saying shit like this, anyway. It's how he ends up in trouble.
But then he spots the snacks she's pulled from her satchel -- God bless that thing -- and a part of him regrets putting her on the spot, because he hasn't eaten in a while and his lips are starting to get chapped, too. It's literally impossible for Imperia to climb any higher on his list of favorite people. He takes a bite of one she offers, and it's bliss. "Jesus. Who sent you? Is this the grooming process? Are you guys fattening me up for the oven? Because it's not gonna' work. I've got a fast metabolism."
[align=center][div style="width: 500px; height: auto; text-align: center; font-family: ; font-size: 9pt; color: COLOR; letter-spacing: -.5px;"][i][b]and die like a hero going home.[glow=black,2,300]