Tickle Me Pretty

Without a falter in his step, Fugue raised his golden eyes to the femme, the smile still printed crookedly on his features. She was oddly colored and carried herself with the stiff hautiness of one who thought very highly of herself. His mind flashed to the crumpled image of another oddly colored dame who used to carry herself the same way. He had broken her of that, he thought with pride.

Surely she wouldn't be much different?

Now now, we've had enough.

And she doesn't appear to be alone.

His orange shoulders shrugged off his thoughts as he closed the distance between them. "It seems you're right, princess. It would not be practical." He spoke to her as if they had known each other for years. It was an odd day for him. His urges had been sated days before, and now he felt the need only to relax his mind and body. Company was always a comfort, though.

Golden eyes peered lazily over the woman's shoulder to the silver fox approaching her rear. She seemed completely aware and unphased by the inferior canine's presense, so he didn't bother inform her. Instead, Fugue refocused his attention on her bi colored orbs and sat before her.

"What's your name, love? If I may ask?