[ It's the heat she described, settling in her throat, working its way against her cheeks, her lips. Leant in to talk with him so easily. True, she never saw them so much as an enemy as something simply in her way, at worst fools of their own pride. She never thought very much one what they are like as people in this regard - and with him, it's easy. Likeable, and he tries to be of course - but this comfortable in another way. A mutuality to missing, that she feels understood in. ]

We are not exactly... usual company. [ Her lips press together, that numbness is coming up comfortably again. Content and warm. Her teeth catch against her bottom lip, pressing in sharp on words decorum would say otherwise about. She's all predator, because she always has been just different. Slow, encroaching. She measures too often, too carefully. Even like this when there's heat crawling up her spine. ] Careful, Marquis, I might ask what kind of woman you think I am. [ The girls that had worked here, told her how he talked. ]