His apparent rage only spurred her on. Her recent lifestyle choices might have left her starved of human interaction but she was solely motivated by her favored past time of getting under his skin. It was proving to be particularly easy this evening. So easy that she was starting to runaway with herself. Somewhere between The Easter Incident and her ferality, her respect for personal space - certainly his personal space - had diminished and what little impulse control she might have had, had all but died.
Case in point, the fact that she had let him shove her arm away only to accost him again from behind with no thought for how, what was essentially an embrace, would have at another time seemed vile, demeaning, and utterly beneath her dignity. Of course she was hardly clinging to him like a groveling lover, on the contrary it was to provoke him, just like the low, taunting murmur she breathed against the side of his neck. "What are you?" Had she had more presence of mind Tig might have realized that her cold, damp clothing was probably working against her. Some instinct she didn't question had her tightening her grasp and pressing herself as closely to him as was possible, like an octopus encircling prey.
Case in point, the fact that she had let him shove her arm away only to accost him again from behind with no thought for how, what was essentially an embrace, would have at another time seemed vile, demeaning, and utterly beneath her dignity. Of course she was hardly clinging to him like a groveling lover, on the contrary it was to provoke him, just like the low, taunting murmur she breathed against the side of his neck. "What are you?" Had she had more presence of mind Tig might have realized that her cold, damp clothing was probably working against her. Some instinct she didn't question had her tightening her grasp and pressing herself as closely to him as was possible, like an octopus encircling prey.
