[Skilled in the art of truly annoying authorities is an apt way to put it, she's gotta admit, so she snorts in amusement before knocking back more of her wine. The taste may be bright and crisp and good, but the more of it that she consumes, the less she finds it matters. A soft heat unspools inside of her, and she feels languid and loose as the sinking sun sends its muted beams through the windows, limning them both in gold.]

What can I say? Redheads do it better.

[There's the quick hike of her eyebrow, and she sticks out her tongue.]

And hey, some deaths are worth it. But yeah, that kind of chemistry-- how often do you get to be part of something like that? Maybe we're both pretty damn lucky.