in a real death waltz

Lolita Monroe · 04-24-2010, 01:54 PM

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300+ words.

Of course he would question it; that had not been unexpected. However, the way he simply took her hand and kissed it was certainly surprising. Lolita gawked at him, clearly confused. Not only was he standing very close to Dahlia de Mai's territory—enemy territory—but he was touching one of its members so freely. He was lucky she was not one of the big war supporters. She was hurt by it and hated it, but she was not one of the ones who would attack anyone they saw just for their associations. "I would suggest being more careful with where you meander, vagy ön tapasztalatok majd azt követően, te ostoba fiú," she warned, her tone neutral. Lolita did not make threats, generally, and she was not violent. She would not make him experience it, but she knew that there were members of Dahlia that would gladly spill his blood before he could explain his presence.

Lolita deliberated for a moment, knowing that his presence was not threatening. If he had intended to do anything to her, he would have by now, she was certain. It seemed that neither would do anything to the other. At the very least, she knew that she would not do anything to him, even if he did take a turn for violence. In such a case, she would merely call for someone in the pack to come and kill him. She did not care for the taste of war and blood; there were only two men alive she wanted to taste the blood of. Otherwise, she was peaceful enough, though very bitter. "Lolita Monroe," she finally said, hoping that it would not be a mistake to identify herself to him. Although, with how obviously out of it he was, she doubted he would even remember it for very long, let alone long enough to tell anyone that he had met her.

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