When Life Gives You...Apples?

The intricately patterned female was beset by a scowl, and her luminescent gaze bored holes into his hide. Not that it particularly bothered him. Deion was, after all, painfully apathetic to the scorn of others. He was a scoundrel, he did whatever he wanted whenever the urge struck him. The plight of an Aeris, really. "Paradise Elementas. I'd say it's a pleasure..." she hesitated, and seemed to be hinting that his company was far from pleasant. Pot, meet kettle. Amethyst gaze drifted over the curves of her reclined form, tracing the divots and lines with practiced ease. A slow smirk spread across his features, brow cocked in question.

"Paradise, hm?" he commented, gaze seeking to meet hers. The option to let loose a scathing remark was almost too much to handle. The heady scent of her heat gave him pause, though. "It suits you, Љубовта." he rumbled, teeth flashing amidst his smile. Calculating gaze roved the orchard, considering his options. Might as well attempt to make conversation with a pretty girl, right? "Are you from here? I haven't seen too many natives as pretty as you."