Vera's tongue poked out between her teeth, pinching her tongue to stop herself from saying something entirely inappropriate. She gave an obviously faux innocent humming response, glancing at him under her lashes. 'My worst?' she said questioned teasingly, 'Oh Mister Bensouda, I doubt even you could handle my worst.' as she stepped close, twirling her wrist in advance to making contact with his face, holding his gaze as directly as he offered it. Ginevra Blackwood was never one to withhold herself from a challenge.

She drew two fingers across his forehead and then down his cheeks, the run down his cheeks almost a caress - almost. 'Positively barbaric Mister Bensouda,' she purred, looking up at him through the veil of her riding hat. 'Positively barbaric.' The hunt was a rare occasion when a lady could be without a chaperone without it being the end of the world or their reputation.

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