![[Image: 500_by_memuii-dbfxt60.png]](http://orig02.deviantart.net/75f6/f/2017/192/d/5/500_by_memuii-dbfxt60.png)
" BEXLEY BRIAR "
It’s strange to see Maxence in such an utterly different light, no weapons, no blood, no shows to put on for the many judging glares of the Solterrans he has, for whatever reason, dedicated himself to - attractive, even, to catch the smile that flits across his face, too delicate a thing for the rest of his strength. Bexley bites back her own grin. With warmth tingling from stomach to hips, she blinks and turns away from him, the twists and turns of her expression at least partially hidden by the angle and the cloud of white curls that falls past her cheeks.
The virility in his next statement catches her off-guard, but to her credit Bexley does not flinch, barely even reacts. Head still low to the ground, she flicks him a slow sideways look and says nothing. Let him be a dipshit - not like she hasn’t seen that before. It’s fascinating, and irritating, how easy it is to rub him the wrong way. With a roll of her eyes she turns back to the ground and does not grace him with a response, merely flicks her tail against his leg, and with calculated movement plucks another flower, so carefully the petals don’t even bruise.
The silence doesn’t bother her much, but apparently it does Maxence, and when he speaks again at least it’s pleasant - so pleasant, in fact, that Bexley jerks her head up to give him a glance of disbelief, happiness spreading, unabashed, over the pearlescent planes of her face. Fine, she chirps back, eyes bright under the thick lashes that line them. Thanks. Yours? Noticing a clump of acacia to their left, Bexley unselfconsciously winds in front of him to reach it, humming with heat and electricity; for once she is at home in the Day Court, finally unwound enough to be sure in her steps, in the way her body moves.
Hopefully he notices.
@maxence
