#isa01

“Now aren’t you a pretty little kitty.” Isa smiled, lifting the cat onto her lap and rubbing it’s head  She’d always wanted a cat but had never quite settled enough to adopt one. Maybe now was the time. Her first real commitment here in Denver. A pet. “Do you want a good scratch?” She scratched the cat’s head before realising that someone had been looking over at her as she had been asking the question. “Oh! Gosh! Sorry, no... i meant this little fella.” She lifted the cat, her cheeks turned red with embarrassment. “I mean unless you’ve got a really bad itch that’s got to be scratched in which case....” She paused, closing her eyes. “I’m going to stop talking and just pray that this ground opens up and swallows me whole. Sorry.”  She coughed. “I mean this is a really pretty cat. Isn’t it?” She held up the  ginger tabby. 

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t a good idea to break into Isabel Romero’s apartment, considering the events at Oleander. But Selwyn and Isa’s friendship wasn’t exactly made of good ideas. In fact, the bond had been forged on the kind of ideas that would make the devil proud.  They’d met in their younger years, both just entering adulthood. Eighteen was the age of maturity, but for them, it was also the age of recklessness. Selwyn had just lost her father and left Endine. She had been angry. And scared. The only things that numbed the pain were brutal training sessions under the Magistrate during the day, and blurry nights with Isa, fueled by alcohol and bad decisions. But those were the old days. They were older now, somewhat settled. They knew of consequences. Still, Selwyn could not resist the urge to give a wink at their younger years, easily picking the lock to Isa’s apartment. She sprawled on her friend’s couch as if it were her personal throne, at ease, lids half closed as she waited for Isa’s return.

Theodore Clairmont had the distinct impression that he was being played. When he confided in Selwyn that he was looking to get a new tattoo, she offered to make an appointment for him with her friend, a well known artist in Asphodel. Red flag number one. Sel was never nice to him. "They're always booked up," she'd sighed. "But Isa is a friend of mine. I'll call in a favor." Red flag number two. This woman was Sel's friend, and the friend of his enemy was certainly not his friend. And then she had led Teddy to the woman's apartment, telling him to wait inside with his shirt off - Isa was apparently a very busy woman. She was squeezing him in and wanted to waste no time with niceties. And that, in itself, wasn't just a red flag. It was the first flag placed on the Moon, flowing in anti-gravity for all to see, obvious against the backdrop of outer space's darkness. But still, Teddy did as he was told. Not necessarily because he trusted Sel - the woman was evil  incarnate - but because Asphodel was boring, and he so enjoyed charging headfirst at bright, exciting things, even if they were red flags. He was in the middle of solo shirtless karaoke when the door to the apartment opened, and in walked (who he assumed to be) Isabel Romero. He grinned. "I'm ready for you."

hug: monty, only in the rare vulnerable moments, and afterwards walking away and pretending nothing happened

cuddle: dom, during the cold nights. with his red cheeks and embarrassment providing warmth, who needs blankets?

This was a disaster.

“You can’t keep pretending it didn’t happen, cause guess what, it did!” Isabel narrowed her eyes at him, though there was a smugness in her eyes that she made no attempt to hide. They’d been going at it for about twenty minutes, and things seemed to be only getting worse.

“It didn’t happen.” He shook his head. No, this wasn’t happening.

“It did.” Isabel grinned as she sat down on the couch beside him, every bit a queen on her throne. “You. Theodore Clairmont. Asked to cuddle.”

Teddy wanted to shrink and shrivel until he could disappear into the fibers of her rug. He started open his mouth to ask if, in his previous drunken state, cuddling was really all he’d asked for, but Isa had already clarified almost a dozen times. He’d asked for cuddling. Not sex. Not even a kiss. Cuddling. He groaned.