( her laugh is soft, even in this proximity, one bolstered by the tickle of his nose in her hair. she assumes it's an attempt to look down at her to properly convey the gravity of his threat, and all she does is nudge the tip of her nose against the hollow of his throat.

it'd be terribly easy to bite him like this. it's tempting. )

You invite people into your coffin with you often?

( the hand on his forearm drifts up to lay flat on his bicep, disappearing beneath his cloak and drumming her fingers along his sleeve thoughtfully. )

Careful answering, I happen to be the jealous sort.

( she's not, but it's fun to play possessive. )