300+ words.
Lolita reached out for her bag, discreetly finding the glass jar she kept her herb in and using it to crush out the burning joint, dropping it into the bottom of her bag to find later. She did not need it now, and he wasn't interested in it, so away it went. She would find it later, but for now, the alcohol and the young male beside her was all that she needed. The shift in subject was appreciated, but not nearly as much as the shift in his body. Lolita leaned into the contact, grinning coyly. "No, I certainly do not," she purred, leaning her shoulder against him. "I'm not lonely anymore, but that does leave one more thing that bothers me in Dahlia. Do you like me?" she asked with a girlish giggle. More vodka was drank, and she was feeling giddy. Well, she liked him, if it mattered. For a member of her uncle's pack, Niro was cute and awfully friendly. Lolita found herself wondering just how friendly he actually was, indeed, as her thoughts moved to something better than talking.
One delicate pale hand found itself resting on the top of his thigh, feeling the warmth of his body radiating from it. He had been the one to touch her, first, so Lolita did not think he would recoil from the contact. "What kind of company do you normally keep?" Lolita hoped he was going to tell her something that wasn't a canine. Just because he specified it not being a wolf... That didn't matter much. He could mean a dog, a coyote, some other canine, or a hybrid (like herself, in fact). The creamy Dahlian hoped he was not about to tell her he had a mate or girlfriend or anything. It would not have mattered to her—she did not care about sleeping with a mated male, and she had already set her impaired sights on this one—but it was always so much more difficult to get those ones to sleep with her. He was already drunk, though... Perhaps it'd be easy, either way. Lolita nuzzled his shoulder with the cheek already pressed there, then lifted the bottle to her lips once more.
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