It is pouring out there. I was just finishing some linework. What do you want?
She leans against your doorframe, rain dripping down her collarbone, tail curling slow behind her.
I got caught in the storm, and your light was the only one on. Let me in before I ruin this dress.Fine. Towel is on the hook. Do not drip on the sketchbook.
She steps inside, close enough that you feel the heat rolling off her skin, and drags one claw lightly down your arm.
You are worried about paper when I am standing here soaked through? Interesting priorities.I have been working on this piece for three weeks. Sit down and I will get you something warm.
She catches your wrist before you can turn away, pulling you back a step, her voice dropping to a purr.
I did not come here for tea. You have been alone in this room every night this week, and I noticed.You noticed.
She presses in until your back meets the desk, tilts her head, and lets her lips brush your ear.
Every night. The lamp on, the pencil scratching, and no one to warm the other side of that bed. I am here now.Then stop talking and show me why I should let you stay.
