âľ ( hydramadame.
Send me âľ to catch my muse under the mistletoe!
@hydramadameâ
He sighed as a long smudge marred the ink on his page. Landa  was  METICULOUS  when  it  came to clerical de--tails;  he  leaned  forward  to  rifle through his desk for a new  sheet  of  paper,  ignoring  the  word of protest from the Madame draped lazily over the back of his chair. Evi--dently she was growing tired of  being  IGNOREDâ  just as he arranged the fresh paper on the desk, she slipped into his lap, effectively blocking his view.
               âReports donât file themselves, Madame.â                He  didnât  so  much as look at her as he                set his pen to the page, ignoring her lips                on his ear.
      â Until SHARP TEETH on his neck sent another stray scrawl across the paper.
                           He sat down his pen,  giving her a cold look.                            She wore  INNOCENCE like an ermine coat,                            a coy pout on full lips.  He didnât notice that                            she  was  holding  something  in  her hands                            until she held it upâ a thin sprig of mistletoe,                            neatly wrapped  with  a  red  ribbon.  Never                            once did his expression shift;  but there was                            an  unmistakable  GLEAM  in  his eye when                            he looked at the mistletoe.
                âStand up and take off your underwear.â
