“Looks like you’ve been reading the rulebook, hon.” Six sighed. “Well, sure, I’ll think a’ something.” Again, that tone—that of the unapologetic lech—crept into his voice. You should run while you can, Atalanta.
“Neither have I. Well, here you go!” With the forwardness that only a man like Six could muster, he stuck a single stick of Pocky—chocolate-covered end first—into Atalanta’s mouth. “How’s it?”
Six didn’t realize just how dead he was.
she makes a face at the sudden intrusion. honestly, could this guy get anymore rude? there was something called personal space, also limits. with an unhappy expression, she carefully takes it out of her mouth, and chews on the chocolate-covered end.
" it’s… very sweet. "
she has some more, a pensive look replacing her previous expression.
" odd… but sweet. it’s not too bad. "