03-31-2009, 12:59 PM
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Her hesitation hadn’t gone unnoticed. But she followed nonetheless and her compliance alone was another small victory for the Québécois. “See? I knew you liked me,” he teased, unable to control his rather peculiar sense of humor. There was something about Asariel’s demeanor that was unbelievably cute. Maybe it was aura of innocence around her. Or maybe, just maybe, it had to do with how naïve she appeared to be. Whatever it was, it was adorable. When she questioned his motives, Honoré quirked a brow and shot her a look. Obviously, she didn’t believe a single word he’d said about painting himself green. He pondered actually applying the green-colored liquid to his pelt until he realized that it would ruin his silky fur, and he certainly didn’t want that happen.
Still, he ignored her first inquiry. No need to explain something she was about to see. It didn’t take long for another question to reach his ears though. That one he judged worthy of an answer. “Honoré,” he paused before adding the following. “But you can call me sexy if you want.” He chuckled, obviously amused with himself. He wasn’t normally this full of himself, it was a phase. Maybe it had to do with all the sugary goodness he’d eaten recently. He had a little too much energy bottled up within him.
He eventually reached the picnic table where the half-painted birdhouse awaited. Taking a seat, Honoré promptly got to work. He wasn’t a Picasso or anything, but the way he applied and treated the colors demonstrated his passion for art. Perhaps Asariel would get to see the softer side of him after all. “You like?” he questioned, eager to see if they shared the same interests.
Still, he ignored her first inquiry. No need to explain something she was about to see. It didn’t take long for another question to reach his ears though. That one he judged worthy of an answer. “Honoré,” he paused before adding the following. “But you can call me sexy if you want.” He chuckled, obviously amused with himself. He wasn’t normally this full of himself, it was a phase. Maybe it had to do with all the sugary goodness he’d eaten recently. He had a little too much energy bottled up within him.
He eventually reached the picnic table where the half-painted birdhouse awaited. Taking a seat, Honoré promptly got to work. He wasn’t a Picasso or anything, but the way he applied and treated the colors demonstrated his passion for art. Perhaps Asariel would get to see the softer side of him after all. “You like?” he questioned, eager to see if they shared the same interests.