#spicyred

      “Jeez, you must really have it bad, I’ve never heard you like this before.” Polly did her best to comfort Damien, reaching out to pat his shoulder. Or, not really pat. Kind of impossible, honestly, when you’re more fragment than flesh, but she condensed her hand down as best she could. It might feel more like a cold wind in solid form than skin, but it counted.

      Fin twitched up to attention, even as Miranda continued looking down at her silverware, trying to lose herself in the midst of forks and spoons and reflections of herself to assure her she wasn’t showing the ugly emotions that writhed in her gut. She wasn’t going to cry. Her eyes burned and an anxious energy sizzled under her scales, but she’d rather die before showing those kind of emotions so willingly in public, where others could see, where the world would know. Stress. That was all this was. 

      After all, if Damien did start dating someone, then maybe Miri herself could get over whatever hang up she felt whenever she thought about Damien. Which was a lot, and only getting worse recently.

      “No - why would I want rid of you? I mean, she is pursuing you, following you about and obviously wanting to ask you to Prom, and you’ve been very head-over-heels recently, so perhaps you should date her. Unless someone else has been on your mind recently, I think you two would make a cute couple.”

      Everyone knew Miranda took her time with changing out of costume, but this was getting ridiculous.

      Even the standard 45 minutes it took for Miri to change had passed, and it was nearing an hour with every further tick on the clock. There were other changing rooms available, but the annoyance was palpable. Every so often a soft step or two could be heard on the old floorboards, baited words drifting in and our from behind the door, but further answers couldn’t really be gleaned. Probably directing one of her serfs or the like.

      It was only suitable then, that Damien was decided to go check on Miranda. To pester her out of the changing room or to figure out if something was wrong, which it very well might be. He was her friend, after all, and they were... More than just friends, after all.

      But a totally unlocked door that easily pushed open and a total lack of guards around the door spoke of the danger the demon was walking into, unintentionally or not.

      Back and forth she glances between the new Sawyer and her lovely, tiny kiddo Sawyer. Both demonic. Both nonbinary and use they/them. Both with the same name and color scheme.

NSFW: It’s been what feels like hours. There’s only so much she has to give. But she hasn’t said it. Not once has she asked you to stop. Such a good girl you’ve trained..