There’s a visible, reflexive flinch by instinct when thickly greased lips collide with the sensitivity of his unfaked skin and leave something that almost felt more persistent and tacking than the plague itself, gorging through the flesh with a brisk tingle. He doesn’t know whether to feel disgusted … or simply taken aback by her sudden move. Though, it’s safe to presume that whatever action she’s carrying out, it means trouble and definitely [ no ] good.
Screws up his face and narrows alabaster brows sternly, noir leathery sleeve wiping off that untoward gift of hers within a sleek stroke.
❝ … thanks. But whatever you may up to — I’ll pass.❞
A smile was present on her lips, rich and thick, in a deadly cold fashion, eyes not leaving the scanned target in front of her. Her hand held out towards—pointing a single, latex-clad finger at him and she set into motion, killing the distance between them, steps crossing over the other, moving on cue. Onyx and red like a great black widow spider. How utterly disappointing to hear him talk like this. It almost hurt her. Well, if this heart could still feel if not for one, particulier man only.
"So cruel, Jack. And here I was hoping we could have a little facétie together."