Word Count → 000 :: Out of Character text.
His tail swayed at her words, obviously surprised and pleased by them. The assassin turned his back to her, correctly measuring that she wasn't interested in a fight. Not unless it proved more entertaining than this conversation, and even then picking a random fight with a trained killer was not a good idea. She watched him move to where a black cloak was hanging, swinging it onto his body. That was better, dressed instead of naked.
Amy lifted her head, accepting his words. She knew she was beautiful, full of great pride over that. Sure, the clothing she wore covered scars, which was why she couldn't wear some of the outfits she wanted to, but she was still very beautiful, generous curves and a body men panted over without thought. She moved towards him, hips swaying again to allow him to fully appreciate it. Europe. The color's from my mother. Managed to escape the darker side of the blood line. She smiled, holding out her hand to take a drink from the flask as well, smelling the alcohol inside.
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