Always the gentleman. [ No, not always. Sometimes anything but, with his bloody maw and his scraping paws. But even in those stories, the scars are still hers — or the death or the savagery or the glinting axe — and it's hers because he gave it to her.
(That part never changes, not even if they wanted it to. Which they don't.)
Her fingers take a hold of his chin and then pull him forward, lowering her face to his. ]
no subject
(That part never changes, not even if they wanted it to. Which they don't.)
Her fingers take a hold of his chin and then pull him forward, lowering her face to his. ]
Teeth then, dear. Let's start with mine.