#ic;flint

“You wan’ som’t’ing from me?” He’s expecting a catch here, most don’t trust him enough as far as they could throw him, so to have some mercy tossed so freely in his direction-- it’s enough to raise the werepanther’s eyebrow. 

Flint raised his beer up, foam getting stuck at the corners of his lips when he set it back down, opposite hand lifting up to wipe at his mouth. “Can’t even see why she’s gotta worry, bitch is frigid as ice, one conversation outta be ‘nough to chase anyone away.” 

“--You don’ got anyplace t’ be later, righ’?” Alright, he’s well aware of how needy this makes him sound-- at least to himself-- but he’s been aching for company so desperately that the werepanther’s more than tempted to sink his nails in to keep Diana around. Metaphorically at least. Part of him’s sure she’d kick his ass into next year if he tried physically without talking about it ahead of time. 

jokes on you, he loves it

“Oi-- ‘mon, I fink it’s’a fantas’ic idea.“ That alone would paint several red flags, Flint being confident in his ideas surely means trouble is in the works. For himself or others remains to be seen. “Jus’ ‘ear me ou’, yeah?” 

“B’still m’ ‘eart.” There’s a dramatic flair with how he smiles, a hand going over his heart. “Lead the way, luv.”

“Well, that’s one way to convince me, luv.”

“Sorry t’ ‘ear, luv.” No, he’s not. But he is a cat at heart after all. “Never know, migh’ turn up when you leas’ ‘pect it.”