I tried to sell my soul last night
Funny, he wouldn't even take a bite
Fortunately for her (or perhaps unfortunately, depending on how one might look at it), Ashhal is a stubborn bastard. You might pretty it up, call it perseverance, determination, moxie, but any way you shake, he’s just plain damned mulish (if it weren’t for the fact he’s quite certain he can reproduce, one might even suppose he could be a mule). At any rate, one relatively tender boop to the nose is hardly enough to deter him.
Besides, he’s been around too long to get winged in the snout by a young, lovely, fresh-faced girl. The sudden burst of feathers in his face causes him to lift his head sharply. Snorting with mild amusement, he tosses his head lightly before aiming a gentle, almost playful nip at the offending wing. Though his teeth close around nothing but air, it’s a subtle reminder that he is not someone to be fucked with.
Yeah, he’s an ass. We’ve pretty much established that. But he’s an ass with a somewhat functional heart and at least a little bit of sense. He can tell when he needs to reel it in. Not that it’ll stick, but hey, what can you expect from said assery?
Slanting her a somewhat wicked glance, grin still teasing his lips, he quirks one equine brow in an amused question. “I could pretend to be a gentleman,” he muses, once more inching a bit closer to the skittish Ilma. “But tell me Ilma, why the hell should I pretend to be something I’m not?”
The soft gray of his muzzle reaches for her once more, lips tugging teasingly at the pale strands of her mane. A gentle nibble meant to soothe and appease. He’s cleverer this time (rotten bastard that he is), shifting the length of his body to press warmly against her winged side, effectively preventing a second round of nose punching.
Breath fanning the pale skin of her neck, he grins once more before rasping, “I don’t think you want me to be a gentleman though.”
Let her be the one to move away this time. If she even wanted to, that is.
Cocky bastard.
