The man before her is a stranger. When he shed his fur, his face came with it, and he may be generically beautiful, but nothing about him resembles the so-called-beast who snorted into his soup at a joke she told.
“Trying to catch flies with that open mouth?” he demands, and oh she’s found him again, claws or none.
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“Trying to catch flies with that open mouth?” he demands, and oh she’s found him again, claws or none.