RP:The Art Of Subtle Seduction

Summary: Tiber wakes up to his 'slave' wearing his shirt and dancing around the kitchen with a stray kitten. The lycan is furious at having a cat in the house, but after much pleading from Lanara, he finally relents and allows her to keep her pet. He hopes that in two weeks he'll have his fifty thousand gold, and that the witch and her new cat friend will move out of his apartment, as they both aren't liking this strange facade they are forced to keep when in public. Over breakfast, Tiber invites Lana to join him for a drink, and the witch playfully suggests that he go dressed in drag. They excitedly formulate a plan to rob unsuspecting men at the Lazy Eel Lounge, while using their flirtatious behavior to disarm them. Lanara suggests she show Tiber how to be a 'lady' and they do a little roleplay in the kitchen... Though it's apparent that beneath their ruse, there is an attraction brewing.

It’s the morning after she had been sold into servitude to Tiber, for fifty thousand gold, and to say that she was in high spirits would be a cruel joke. How did she always wind up in these ridiculous situations?! Last night she had to ask the lycan for a permission slip so that she could slip off to the bath house and gather some clothes and basic necessities. And –then- after having received permission for water and clothing, she had been accosted by one of Skitch’s goons! The male had the audacity to follow Lana into the room, not even affording her a minute of privacy. She had to undress before his wandering eyes, bathe as quickly as possible, and beeline it back to Tiber’s place. So, it’s no wonder that she didn’t have any sleepwear in her duffle bag. She was a nervous wreck about moving in with a stranger for two weeks, and the vampire gawking at her had left her paranoid. Wearing one of Tiber’s button-down checkered shirts, with the sleeves folded up and a few of the top buttons undone, she peers out the kitchen window. Her long locks fall to the middle of her back, and she idly runs her fingers through her hair, causing the shirt to rise up on her bare legs, ending at the middle of her thighs. “Tiber is going to be so pissed…” She mutters, nipping her lower lip and casting a sidelong glance at the counter, where a tiny black kitten is perched, responding with a meow. Lana hadn’t bothered to sleep; she was too upset after the bath house incident to really relax, so as she hears a rustling in the next room, she widens her eyes, suddenly alert. He was awake! Thinking quick, she walks over to the cabinets and leans against the counter, hopefully blocking the view of the stray cat she had brought home.

The morning light crept within the window of his two-bedroom apartment. Thank goodness he had the brains to bid on a place with two rooms, otherwise this would have been a nightmare. But honestly, it was a nightmare. Last night, he just wanted the woman out of his hair for a few hours, but Skitch was so alert that she ended up arriving back early with an escort. He opened his amber eyes in a squint as he tried to look at the window. On his bed nearby, he grabbed a pocket watch to check the time, and it was earlier than he expected. Tiberius was an early riser. He rolled out of bed and did not bother to even put on a shirt. The man had messy hair, but it looked quite flattering for morning hair. The door opened and he slipped into the hallway, and as he took a giant inhale in and stretched, he froze. Something smelled off. Was that…? No, it could not be. Maybe the elven girl wore some sort of witchy natural scent. He then moved into the kitchen where Lanara was wearing one of his button-ups. He could not help his man thoughts by checking her out. “Uh… morning,” this was unreal. The man was not used to women who actually stayed in his home, but he had no other choice. Tiber automatically walked to the cupboard to pull out two coffee mugs. “Like coffee? I figured we can have some and maybe go to town for some actual… clothes. My ‘slave’ is not going to look bad around me. I also don’t like the idea of you being my slave. I’d rather just have a classy lady by my side,” he smirked and started to warm some water on the stove. He then sniffed again and rubbed his nose. “Wait a second…” his eyes squinted as he began to look around. He would move up against Lanara and then… he found the feline. “No.” He was stern, “No, no, no, no, no,” the Catalian would shake his head repetitively. “Get that fuzz ball out. It’s going to piss all over the floor!” So, Tiber was not a cat person. Yet.

Lanara was one of those women that could totally pull off wearing a man’s shirt, and as the sunlight filters through the window it casts a mock-halo on her head, causing her chocolate hues to sparkle. She’s the picture of innocence, even giving Tiber a small wave, as she replies, “Morning, sleepyhead! Uh, yeah, coffee is great. I-I didn’t get much sleep last night. There was an issue at the bath house, but I took care of it…” She had nearly drowned the vampire, all five foot four inches of the witch, along with some elemental magic. And the knee to his groin, before she fled into the two bedroom apartment, wasn’t exactly an accident. Lana notices that the male is eyeing her slender legs, and wanting to delay the discovery of the kitten; she feigns a yawn and lifts her arms over her head, in an exaggerated stretch. It was a free pass. Tiber could check out her dancer’s well-toned figure all he desired, as long as the kitten remained safe atop the counter. “Yeah, some clothes would be great. All I was able to grab was a change of clothes for today… I didn’t expect you to be up this early.” Had she known he was an early riser, she would have put on some pants! She sees him nearing her, sniffing at the air as though he smelled something foul, and she panics. “I’ll make us some coffee! Okay?” She turns around abruptly and reaches into the cabinets to grab some mugs, unintentionally giving him a peek at the black underwear that covered her bottom. Well, maybe it would give him pause? No such luck, as they bump into each other and he grabs the mugs, prepares the coffee, and spies the kitten. Those amber eyes widen with recognition, as he finds the source, and he adamantly flips out, as predicted. Lanara steps closer to the Catalian and rests her hand on his upper arm, “Wait… Before you make me toss him into the street… Just hear me out? Please?” She waits a beat, as her expression softens and she fully locks eyes with the cat-hater. “I promise he won’t pee on your counter, the floor, or anywhere he’s not supposed to, and if he does, I will clean it up. I’m your ‘slave’, erm, classy-maid-lady-sidekick–thing, remember? Look… This is sort of embarrassing… But, I’m not used to sleeping alone… I often have some of my pets surrounding me; they protect me, and bring comfort. Otherwise I have awful nightmares, and my screams will keep you awake.” There’s a pause, as she drops her gaze, ashamed that she let him see a little depth. This was not how the morning was supposed to go. “I found the kitten outside the bath house, and he was starving and filthy. I gave him a bath and some food, and he’s really adorable. Before you know it, we –both- will be out of your hair. And hey! If I have a kitten, then you don’t have to talk to me or anything. He will entertain me! I already named him, too!” Dropping her hand from his arm, she lifts the kitten into and bends his paws in a wave to Tiber, before jutting her lower lip out in a pout, as they both turn on the charm. How could he deny the pretty elf and the adorable kitten?! “Please, please, please, Tiber?! I will let you pick out an outfit for me, and no matter how ridiculous it is, I will wear it the entire day, I promise! And I’ll even let you have this shirt back, even though we both know it looks better on me.” Her full lips curve up into a silken smile as she leans in, batting at his bare chest with the kittens paw, “We both know you’d rather have this ‘pissing fuzz ball’ cuddled up to me at night… Otherwise you’ll have to waste some coin on stuffed animals and read me bedtime stories.”

Tiber almost had steam coming out of his ears. The aggression was intense as the beast scratched at the back of his mind. The voice inside his head screamed no, but his grinding teeth began to slow their tempo as Lanara explained her reasoning of keeping her pets. He looks at the cat and his hard expression is still in place. He does not budge as she explains herself not until she makes the cat do a pretend wave. Tiberius finally crosses his arms with a flat stare. Although Tiber was a jackass, he was not about to let the girl face her worst nightmares. He was not that terrible of a human-being-wolf-thing which got him into this mess. He does not acknowledge her explanations; instead, he points a finger at her. “Listen, this thing pees anywhere, even so much on the rug and I will make you buy me a new one after you scrub the old one.” He then lowers his finger, and his body relaxes again. He did not mind her begging. The wolf found it slightly cute, but he would never admit such a thing. “Two weeks, and it’s gone with you. I get to choose your outfit today because that was such a brilliant idea! But keep in mind you need a few more outfits than the one I pick, so it’ll be a little surprise,” he keeps a mischievous little grin on his dumb, handsome face. “Also, you need to wash the sheets when you’re done staying here because the next person who stays in that guest bedroom is not going to be swallowing and sniffing hair all night.” Tiberius was a grumpy pants. “Now, let’s find you some…” he paused while he stared at her bare legs. “Make-do pants and head out, yeah?” He then narrowed his gaze towards the cat like a child who was pouting because he could not have his way.

Lanara watches the angry stare, the clenched jaw, and the crossed arms of Tiberius, all signs pointing to the fact that he did –not- approve of the kitten being his new house guest. She’s amused by his expression, wondering what the hell he could have against animals, when Salem hisses and goes on the defense. He was just a baby, yet he caught the scent of a canine lurking in the blood of the male, and with the mounting aggression Tiber was feeling, it added to the effect. Thankfully, the kitten is pulled back in the nick of time, before his extendable claws make contact with the bare torso of the lycan. Of course, then comes the whole finger wagging threat, and Lana bites the inside of her cheek to hold back a smartass retort. He was her ‘master’ and so she had to give him some semblance of respect, plus she really wanted to keep the kitten. Was he immune to her somewhat flirtatious posing in the kitchen? Did her begging have that little of an effect on his soul? Was he racist towards elves? Maybe it was her magic? Whatever the reason, his anger dissipates and he’s grinning wickedly, and likely imagining her in some horrid chicken costume. The elf counts this as a small victory. She would have a kitten… And thirteen more days to live, unless she came up with the gold, or her hex proved fruitful. “Thank you…” She manages, as they each fill their mugs with coffee, and she drinks hers in silence, not quite meeting his gaze as the kitten scampers around the room. When it’s time to do dishes she gives Tiber a smirk and takes the mug from him, “I’ll do the sheets before I leave, unless you kill me, of course. Maybe you should have me do the laundry before you drown me, or melt me, or have me replace the carpet and furniture… I didn’t realize you had so many slaves using your guest room.” It seems her own distaste about this situation was simmering as she drank her coffee. He thought he had mood swings?! Here was the queen! “Also. Tomorrow is Friday night… I assume you have a date? If you wish to give me a permission slip, I’ll make sure that I’m not here, so you can have your privacy.” Leaving the dishes on the mat to dry, she climbs onto a chair and tears the curtains off the window, only to cut them in half and create a makeshift skirt. Another small victory, she thinks, before lifting her head to gauge his expression.

Tiber is almost relieved when the kitten is out of his view. His nostrils were beginning to flare as the kitten hissed at him, and well, he was about to knock the kitten off his high-horse which is pretty petty. All the questions she had about his demeanor was a mystery and the woman would never find out until she continued her days with him. “Yeah, yeah,” he says to her thankful behavior before turning around showing his back that had wearing bruises and some small stab scars. He then hands her the empty mug, reaching his arm backwards to give it to her and she may notice numerals that were branded on his wrist. “If I kill you, I’ll have no money. Plus, if you think I wanted to kill you, why would I waste every bit of coin on you? Really?” He finally turned around at her. “Put it together, Lanara. Does it look like I want –this-?” He gestured to himself and her and the whole living space. “If I wanted to live with some chick, I’d get married and have a family. Do I look like a family man to you?” He waited for a response before continuing on as his little word spew. He was not cruel. The man was just listing the facts. “Also, yes, it’s Friday night. No dates. I don’t date as strange as that sounds since I’m probably the biggest womanizer to people. You just have to put on a show for women. Does not mean I actually sleep with them or want to. Most are bimbos if they want to date me.” It was the truth. He was not in it for the ladies who would drool all over him. “So, you’re staying here tonight with me, or you’re coming out to get a drink with me. I like the second one myself. I think we could both use one.” He rolled his eyes before drinking the mug that was received from her. “Also, the spare room is for my friend Nadine. She crashes here sometimes. She’s like my own sister. We grew up together.” But that was another story.

Lanara drops the attitude and quirks a brow, somewhat surprised that the destruction of his curtains hadn’t sent him over the edge. The witch had a knack for pushing people to lash out, and she had predicted that Tiber would have at least given her an insult. Stepping off the chair, she lifts the long shirt, and ties it into a thick knot, halfway up her torso, similar to a cowgirl get-up. A shimmer of silver is viewed as the sun blares into the room and shines on her pierced belly button, also showing the faintest white line of a scar on the right side of her abdomen. There’s also a paw print tattoo on the center of her lower back, barely hidden by the makeshift skirt. Lana twirls around in her white lacy skirt, blue checkered flannel shirt, and she pokes Tiber on his bicep, grinning. “Does this curtain make me look fat?” She’s giggling and dancing around his kitchen, and for a second that guard is down, and he can see that she’s proud of making an outfit after having so little material, and that deep down, she’s a kid at heart. Lana’s eyes briefly scan his bare back, and she notices his fading bruises, though she doesn’t comment. He’d think she was checking him out, being nosey, or a bit of both. The bar code, however, does earn a comment, and thinking it’s some sort of neat tattoo, she extends her arm and shows off her left wrist. A triquatra symbol is branded into her flesh, and she’s eager to explain, “I have a wrist marking, too! My sister, Talyara, and I... We were branded at birth, from our mother. It’s the symbol of the triple goddess, the Maiden, the Mother, and the Crone. If Taly and I perform magic together, it includes our mother’s magic, and our powers are magnified by three. It also works as a tracking device, and my wrist will pulse if Taly is in close proximity.” A pause, as she thinks back on her destroyed homeland, and deceased parents, a faraway look in those brown eyes. “What does your marking symbolize, Tiber?” Lana is pleased that he says killing her is most likely off the table, as it had been nagging the back of her mind, though when he claims he doesn’t date she rolls her eyes. “You just haven’t met the right one, maybe? And most of the women in this part of the lands are tramps. Especially those with red hair! I have sworn off dating, too. I’ve had my heart broken thrice in my one-hundred and eighty-two years, and I don’t want it to happen again. Men want a family, and I can’t have children. They also want the picket fence, settling down in one area, and the trophy wife. I love to travel, and I could never just be someone’s housewife.” Lana shakes her head, “I dated an assassin, Krystan, briefly, and he died. The second one, Eirik… He was a witch killer, a lycan, though he had changed his way. We were together for quite some time and we were engaged. But… Once the chase was over, he grew bored with me, and all he cared about was politics and war. We broke things off, and much later I dated a city guard, Largakh, who was my most recent loss… He died in the line of duty, in Gualon. It’s been six months, and though I’ve been asked out a few times, I haven’t accepted.” Lana shrugs, not caring if she finds love or not, as she has a menagerie of animals to keep her company. There’s a brief silence after her thoughts on love, and she’s wondering why she bothered to tell him so much. The less he knew about her the better, right? In two weeks they’d part ways, and likely never see each other again. Or maybe growing closer would be a good thing? Fate had set them on this course, after all, and she couldn’t be ignored. Snapping back to attention, Lana smiles at the mention of Nadine, and nods her head, “I have a man that’s like a brother to me, Scandal. It’s nice when you can pick your family members… And… I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take her bed. If Nadine shows up, I can take the couch. Or I could make bunk beds?” She has zero construction skills and will likely end up causing him more gold, but it was nice to offer, right? “Drinks sound… Great. Though everyone will think we’re on an actual date. So, we can either give them something to talk about, or you can borrow some of my clothes and go in drag.” The hint of grin is on her face, so she quickly diverts her gaze, to keep her composure.

Tiber would almost murder the witch at the stake about the curtains, yet the humor in her tone eases his attitude. He was playful, but he was still angry about the whole situation he was in with her. The man then lifts a teasing hand while setting it on his hip and turns his tone rather sassy like a female. “Honey, lace and flannel suits you well. Farm girl chic,” he does a pretend hair toss with invisible long hair. He then crosses his arms as she dances around his kitchen with no cares. He watches the make-shift skirt sway at her rhythm and the atmosphere in the room becomes one step lighter until she notices the marking on his wrist. The smile on his face vanishes as he listens intently to her and her eyes looked somber for a brief moment. “Your mother? She live around here with you and your sister?” He then looks down at his own. His brand was an actual scar. Someone had burnt him with the numerals causing scar tissue to form around the burn marks. Tiberius stares at it with a frown and narrow eyes. “I don’t know where I got this. I just woke up with it one day with no memory of it when I was eighteen. Ten years flew by. Though, it was long ago, I don’t think about it often, but most of that memory has faded. Probably some asshole kid since some had behavioral issues in the orphanage in Venturil.” His voice was hard, but the conversation would be easily directed to the next topic. Dating. His story about his wrist was for another day. One day he would recollect those awful memories, he just needs a trigger to bring them back. He shrugs it off and raises his brows at her story of men. “Looks like you just have the worst luck. But… I apologize about your losses. Love is a tricky game.” He would not talk about his love life. Nope. He would not give the conversation much thought. He was a loner too who liked trouble and did not want to bring others down with him to his dark place. Tiber then gives his bare chest a scratch before moving around her like she was prey. “Let them talk. Maybe we can give them a juicy rumor to spread,” he flashed a smile towards her. “Or… you can paint me and give them some reasons to talk. I can hit on a dude, maybe steal his wallet. But you have to make me look stunning, and the dude has to be super drunk. I think I like the second option,” he nodded in assurance. So he was fun to play with. A little dress up never hurt nobody. Let the drag show begin.

Lanara giggles at the compliment regarding her forced fashion choice, though the smile would fade when he asks if Kuruni is still alive, and if she lives nearby. Her gaze drops to his bare chest, as his toned physique was easier to look at than his face, at least when she speaks of her past. “I. She. We… Uh…” There’s a pause, as she swallows hard, and clears her throat. He expected an answer, and they were just starting to relax around each other, so she blurts out, “No, my mother is dead. She was murdered, um, decapitated, actually. The Drow came to my homeland of Kelvar, and they killed everyone in the village, though my sister was able to escape. I was away at the time, at an academy for advanced magic users, and I arrived too late… Every home was burned down, our forests were destroyed, and every elf was killed.” Another pause as she shakes her head, sparing him the more gory details, of how she had single handedly hunted down every dark-skinned silver-haired heathen and slaughtered them with her bare hands. Lanara may look all sweet and innocent, but the witch isn’t afraid to lash out when triggered, and she’s taken quite a few lives in her time. “I live in Sage Forest, now, though I’ve lived in quite a few towns over the years. I came here and found my sister, five years ago. Talyara has a cottage in Frostmaw. We see each other every so often, and on high holidays.” Why was she feeding him all of this knowledge? Maybe she thinks they won’t see each other again, once the two weeks is up? Maybe she feels compelled to answer, and live up to the expectation of being a faux-slave? She stops over thinking as the conversation returns to Tiber, and she glances at his wrist, before meeting his amber gaze. There’s compassion in her expression as she listens to his tale. Even Salem can sense the shift in their conversation and he prances over to Tiber and paws at his bare feet. “You grew up in an orphanage? I’m sorry you can’t remember your parents, or the life you led before the amnesia… I actually volunteer at the orphanage in Gualon. I give ballet lessons to the little girls. I used to go once a week, though after Larz died, I haven’t returned. It was sort of our thing to go together… But… Maybe you and I can go sometime? Maybe being in an orphanage again can help to jog your memory. Only if you want to, if not, I understand.” There’s a moment of silence after he comments on her lack of a love life, though he doesn’t mention that of his own romantic history, and thankfully, the conversation takes a playful turn. This is where Lana shines! Grinning, she narrows her eyes, as though appraising Tiber’s looks, as he circles her, almost predator-like. “Hm… We’ll have to head to the market and find you a pretty dress. I think I have a shade of lipstick that will really match your skin tone… And we can pad your bra, of course.” Lana lifts her hand to teasingly ruffle his hair, if he’ll allow it, and she nips her lower lip, biting back a giggle. “I think pig tails would look charming on you! And some purple eye shadow, to bring out those gorgeous eyes. But these…” Lowering her hand, she gives his bicep a squeeze, admiring his tone, though she masks her approval with a scowl. “A long sleeve dress would be best or at least three-quarter length sleeves. Unless you want to rock a butch look?” Was he really going to go to the bar in drag?! “If we’re going to a club, I’ll have to show you some dance moves. But, if it’s a bar… I can show you how to flirt like a woman. Trust me, neither of us will have to buy our drinks.”

The doleful atmosphere made him nauseous. As she stared at his chest, he felt as if she was stabbing him with her mournful daggers for eyes. He holds his breath as she tells her tale about her mother, and as she mentions the drow who came in and took away their village. Tiberius remembers Catal and how that was a disastrous moment for his home. He had never saw his parents again, and he had no idea if they were still alive, but Tiberius was strong and he only let a solemn gaze show through somber thoughts. Lanara finishes, and Tiber awkwardly wants to put a hand on her shoulder because that was how people felt comforted, right? However, he does not. He cannot move. He is glued in place. “At least you still have a family member, and I hope you don’t take her for granted.” The Catalian responds lightly. “I hope you have found Sage to your liking. I’m actually hoping to build a home there someday,” he coughs, “Once I get my money back,” he finishes with an awkward smile. “Perhaps you can revisit Kelvar… I know that’s dark, but it does not hurt to reminisce in the darkness of memories. Most were happy there, right?” He did not know how to brush lightly over the subject. Amber hues fix on the cat brushing up below him, and he wants to shudder, but he lets the cat roam. He leans down and gives the cat a brief stroke before standing. “I can remember my parents, I just don’t know if they’re alive. I remember most about the orphanage except… when I turned 16 everything went hazy. It seemed as if I wasn’t mournful at all. I just lived life – it’s a blur, really, but it does not matter,” it did, but he did not know. He then thinks about the thought of children, and he wants to vomit. He was not a kids person, and well, orphanages made him rather ill. He was cooped inside for six years of his life behind the glass windows, and a sick feeling came to his gut. His memory was trying to trigger itself, but it could not get through. He brushed the illness away. “Maybe? I haven’t been there in a long time. Also… kids aren’t my forte.” It was true, he did not know how to handle children – he did, but he preferred not to unless he really had to. He then smirks as she lights back up like a bulb. “I don’t think a dress will do the trick with the thick hair on my legs. I’d shave, but most ladies have prickles once hair grows, I hate that,” he grinned. “Lipstick, great. Bra, great. I think perhaps I can look a little edgy. Leather pants – I got slim legs, but a nice jacket will hide the broadness of the shoulders, right?” He was really talking like he was interested and asking for critique. He was something else. And as she squeezes his bicep, he flexes as his natural instinct. He then crinkles his nose. “Pig tails? Ew. If I was a dude in the bar, I would steer clear of pigtails. I’m no farm girl. I’m thinking a long blonde wig with… wild curls. Maybe a wig that has like edgy colored ends like purple or silver or something,” what was coming out of his mouth? “We gotta scheme hard. It has to be somewhat realistic. I’m hoping we find you a male to hit on too. That way you can get true booty,” he rubs his fingers together as if he is talking about coin, but they would both know the joke before he grinned. “We have to get my savings back somehow,” he shrugged. “You can bring us anywhere as long as I can get into some pockets. Flirt like a woman? Don’t I just have to be a ditz?” That was offensive, but seriously, truth when it came to some males.

Lanara wasn’t looking for sympathy, she merely answered his question, though she feels his gaze glued to her face and she finds it unnerving. Most men would be using her heartache as a stepping stone to pulling her into their strong arms and making a move in such a vulnerable state. Others would be eyeing her flawless figure up and down. But not Tiber. He was a hard shell to crack, and as much as she can’t quite figure him out, she’s also relieved. He’s different. And with the constant shift in his mood, he oddly felt like home, as Lana also dealt with severe mood swings and had some psychological damage of her own. She can sense that the lycan doesn’t want to talk much about his past so she focuses on his dislike of kids, aiming to change the subject. Giving him one of her best smiles and a nudge with her shoulder, she teases, “So, you don’t want to be a father one day, I take it? Well… I think you’d be a better –woman- than a brooding father, and I mean that in the sweetest of ways. Changing diapers? Messing up your house? Saying goodbye to private time with your lover? Nope! I never really wanted children, either. I considered them at one point, or maybe the idea of adoption, but I can’t have children, physically. And… I prefer my babies with four legs and fur.” As if on cue, Tiber bends to give Salem a brief rub, and the kitten purrs and leans into his hand. He was already a sucker for affection, and Lana was pretty sure he’d be sneaking into Tiber’s bed during the night. That would be a spat for tomorrow, though! Oddly, she’s already looking forward to it. “Sage is great… I feel most at home in the forest area. I’ve lived in Cenril, Frostmaw, and Venturil, over the years. Sage and Kelay are the two ‘safest’ areas, as they don’t really get involved with politics, and the crime is minimal.” The man is going on and on about how he wants to look like a smoking hot broad, and that pig tails are a definite no, and he hopes to rob the fellows blind at the bar, and she can’t help but laugh. His playfulness is contagious, and she’s firing right back at him, even after the slight insult, “Hey! Not all women are ditzy, Mister! I’ll have you know, that leather pants, long blonde curls, and a great smile will only get you so far! You have to show a little bit of interest. You have to finesse the man into wanting more than your address. He has to want more than your body. You have to own this man, and have him melting in your palm… Before you rob him of his wallet. I used to work as an exotic dancer… A long time ago. I literally was paid to do this stuff on a daily basis.” Rolling her eyes, she shakes her head, and points to the kitchen table. “Sit down. Let the master show you how it’s done… We’ll pretend that you’re at the bar, having a drink. I walk in, size you up as some single rich guy, and you become my next target. Here! We’ll even have props!” The witch walks over to the ice box and sets a bottle of ale on the table, before she leaves the room and slips her high heels on her bare feet. She’d enter the room in a few minutes, once the scene was officially set. This would be fun!

Tiber being different was an understatement. He was closed off, and never let a soul in. A hard shell was right. Although the two were playful with each other, the emotion would only go so far, and he would not let the woman come crashing in. “No, I don’t plan to be a father,” however, the thought of having a kid as a little thief to give the profits to daddy and some allowance might change his opinion. “I can rarely hold a girlfriend let alone a child,” he smirks. He then bats his eyes playfully at her retort about how he would be a good woman. He would. He definitely would. “No shame of not wanting kids, even though you can’t have them,” he shrugged. “Sage is the running point. No one really questions people in Sage.” His interest is now piqued when she begins to tell him that it is harder to be a woman and hit the target. Her language sweeps him in, and he is owned by her words. “Exotic…?” He runs his eyes down her figure, but he could not help it. “Must have been a joy for the people watching you,” he smiled slyly before sitting in a seat to role play with her. “Fine, I’ll play your little game. Own me, try it.” This would be fun. Would he fall into the trap? The man quickly gets up to get a glass to actually have a morning drink and plops back down where he was. He opens the ale and pours it in the glass before swirling the contents. Ready, action!

Lanara is giggling in the living room, playing with her hair, and scheming, always scheming. She can’t believe that she actually confessed to her old school days of being ‘Cinnamon’ the exotic dancer. Tiber would never let her live that one down, she knows, but its fun to role play, and she’d rather spend her morning being a shameless flirt than cleaning his house or looking over her shoulder for Skitch. Plus, Tiber was nice eye candy, and he had a good sense of humor. “Okay! Now pay attention to my body language, tone, facial expressions, touch, all of that stuff! Because, you will have to play the woman, next!” Feeling that he was now in place, the elf pinches her cheeks until they are a slight tinge of red, smoothes her clothes, and saunters into the kitchen. Ever so slowly she slinks over towards the kitchen counter, just in Tiber’s line of view, though she walks with determination and purposely avoids looking in his direction. There’s a seductive sway to her hips, and there’s something so provocative about a woman that can walk well in four inch heels. Stopping at the counter, she looks up, as though she’s eyeing a menu, and she purses her lush lips, as her hand slowly slides up her side, and to her cheek, where she would lightly brush her hair behind a tapered ear. “Hm… I’ll take a glass of the sangria, please. With extra cherries, and leave the stems on.” Lana’s lips curve into a silken smile, at the sink, which she’s imagining to be a barmaid, before she mimics the exchange of coin and drink. “I hope I counted right… It’s been a –long- time since I’ve been out on a Friday night… And being newly single and all, I’m very nervous.” She giggles, her laugh akin to twinkling bells, before she winks at the barmaid, and turns around. Lana is the perfect blend of shy, vulnerable, professional, and sexy. Next would come the conversation, flirting, and making of a move, of course. She hopes that Tiber is paying attention, as she helplessly glances around the room, and finds that one seat, at his side, that just happens to be vacant. Walking over to him, she raises the glass to her lips and pops the cherry into her mouth, only to tie a knot in the stem, and ever so slowly remove it from between her lips. Faintly blushing, she flashes him a bashful smile, and points to the chair beside him, her expression hopeful, yet knowing. “Mind if I sit with you? All the other seats are taken… And normally I’d be terrified to ask a man as handsome as you if I could join you, but… Some risks are worth taking.” There. Allow the male to think he’s out of the woman’s league, when in fact; it would be the other way around. A woman fearing rejection is much more approachable than one who thinks she’s the hottest thing in the room. Plus, that whole tying a knot in a cherry stem? Sexy.

The man sits there idly waiting for her approach. He sips on the ale that is given to him in mock situation, but a morning drink was not bad occasionally. He senses her avoidance which makes him peer over to see what she was up to, and to his surprise, she is standing in a pair of heels that curve her calves nicely. Her lips perk and his eyebrows twitch at her body movement. Oh, he was watching alright. Every movement was important and it was working. He had almost forgotten they were role playing. Tiberius cannot help but stare at the way her lips move. It’s a smooth song of silk that rolls off her tongue as she talks. Now, she was a smooth talker. If he was actually in a bar right now, he would definitely be sizing her up and attempting to make her melt. The wolf was always up for a challenge. Tiber is still as stone as she takes the initiative to move and settle herself next to his side. His neck may have turned a shade of crimson as she tied the cherry stem between her tongue and teeth. Holy Sven, Holy Sven. “Be my guest,” his voice responds in a cool and collected manner as his eyes gesture towards the vacant chair. He does not show any signs of response towards the handsome compliments she feeds him. No, some men were not that easy. Tiberius Lowell was not that easy of a man to come by, but did Lanara have some moves up her sleeve. He did feel superior to her motives. “You’ve sat next to the right person to take some risks.” The tying the knot was really dragging him in. “You don't seem like the type to be single for long. You must know what you're capable of,” he gave her an impish smile in return.

The woman knows exactly what she’s doing, and she can tell that their bit of role playing is having an effect on Tiberius, as his neck begins to color, all to be followed up by a compliment. He was merely playing the role of an interested suitor, right? She honestly didn’t think she’d be his ‘type’ in the real world, although, she’s enjoying the way he’s eyeing her legs, lips, and the fact she’s commanding his head to turn in her direction. It’s a power that so few women can possess, and so effortlessly, though Lana hasn’t turned the charm on a man in well over a year. It feels freeing, and though she feels she’s a tad rusty with flirtation, she’s finding this mentally stimulating. Lowering herself onto the chair, she deliberately kicks the leg so that it scoots a few inches to the right, adjacent to Tiber’s chair, so that when she sits, her leg is touching his own. “Thank you, I appreciate it. I’ve always felt a bit the odd woman out at these sort of places….” She waits a beat, her chocolate hues boring into his skull, her smoldering gaze locking onto his amber eyes. Lana’s come-hither look is the perfect blend of intimidation and allure, as she rests the tied cherry stem on a napkin, and extends a dainty hand. “I’m Stacy.” Never give your real name, yet choose something that rolls nicely off the tongue and is memorable enough. “And… I’m very lucky to be sitting next to a risk taker, like yourself. Because… Tonight I feel like living on the edge.” She follows this up with another of those lilting laughs, and as their hands make contact, she ever so lightly runs the tips of her fingernails on his inner wrist, before slowly pulling away. Always leave them wanting more, mix the girl next door persona with that of an insatiable flirt, and when in doubt, rely on props to focus their attention elsewhere. Making certain to giggle at any jokes he may make, and to briefly touch his biceps every chance she gets, she douses the male in attention, as though he’s the only male in the entire tavern. Most men would falter, swiftly, at that alone, as Lana was a real looker, and rarely the type to throw herself at any man. A few men would be suspicious of this behavior, however, and so she flicks her gaze to the half-drained drink. A second cherry is plucked from her glass, as she directs the conversation towards the weather, briefly touching upon her career as a school teacher, and finally, after having cleared her glass, she pops the cherry between her sangria stained lips. Deliberately, her gaze trails from Tiber’s eyes, to his strong jaw, to his plump lips, and towards his throat. Her tongue works in slow circles, as the cherry is dissolved, and again, a second knot is formed, which is settled beside the other, neatly on the napkin. By now, Tiber would have engaged in their casual conversation, and maybe have stared dumbstruck as the woman devours the cherry with her mouth and the lycan with her eyes. The glass is nudged with her elbow, as she leans forward, her cleavage momentarily catching his eye, as a few ice cubes slide from the table and land on the edge of her chair and the floor. Lana would comment on whatever he says, and cross her long legs, her calf resting on his thigh, as her heel dangles from her foot, and her eyes would widen, as though this was all some sort of mishap. It’s no accident, and the pretty elf seems content with leaving her leg slowly rubbing against his pants, that heel precariously hung. “I’m so sorry! Clumsy me, I went and spilled some ice, so I hope you don’t mind that I’ve gotten a little closer…” And she has gotten closer, as her right arm is perched on the back of his chair, and she has sidled up against him, though her face feigns innocence. Be aggressive; though make it all look like it’s an accident. Men often are suckers for playing the hero, and who would want such a beautiful woman to catch a cold from her ice cube!? Not to mention, those two cherry stems are glaring back at her victim, as though encouraging him to make a move on the risk taking girl next door. A slow, seductive smile replaces the feigned shock, as she conspiratorially leans in, and feeds on his earlier comment, “I am newly single, yes, though I intend on staying this way… Labels are so boring, and overdone. I prefer my freedom, and I prefer a man that values his identity, apart from my own.” A pause as she lets her words sink in, knowing she’d hit a home run. Men expect all women to want marriage, babies, and a white picket fence, and here was ‘Stacy’ claiming she wanted something casual, with no strings attached. Be the dream girl he envisions, and depending on his next statement, one would either move on to another man to rob of gold, or slide onto his lap and take it a step further. Lanara is enjoying their little bout of role play, though her cheeks are beginning to flush, which is definitely –not- part of her act. Before now, she hadn’t really inspected the male so closely, and he was very appealing to gaze upon. Internally, she’s reminding herself that this is a lesson, a role play, and that he’s her ‘master’ for the next two weeks. It’s best to remember that, she thinks, lest things become awkward.

Tiber keeps himself cool while he fiddles with a toothpick he had snagged from the corner of the countertop. He gnaws on the pick and twirls it around idly as he steadily keeps his amber gaze on her. His gaze is toxic as he keeps a small, subtle, and crooked smile on his face while twirling the pick. The man surely did know how to keep his heart rate down. Tiberius had a thing with being touched. Quite frankly, it turned him off when women hit certain places – biceps, chest, upper thighs – but when she was not near him, his eyes danced around her. He was soaking up every inch of her. The distance between them had honestly become heavy, and the wolf delves into the small talk. “Stacy,” he lets the name roll off his tongue, and the name hangs in the air in a seductive tone. “Lot of dare for such a name,” he smirks. He likes the retort about how she is only taking tonight to live on the edge. Something sang in his chest which was abnormal because Tiber did not fall into women so easily, plus this was an act and not real. He would slowly exhale. “My lucky night,” he mused before almost shuddering at her touching his inner wrist. The shock shot through his lower back, but it also sent tingles as his ears grew hot. Amber eyes stare straight back at her as if they are almost undressing each other. Lanara was surprisingly his type, and as she keeps touching him in gentle ways, he eases up a notch. The lithe and lean man leans into whisper in her ear to make snarky remarks and becomes serious at the right cues. His breath is warm and swarms her neck and ear. His hand runs through his thick, wavy hair, he skims his own lips with his teeth as he turns his lips into a cunning smile. Tiberius is dancing around her, but Lanara is also dancing around him as she moves her tongues to rhythms, tosses her hair, and brushes his leg with her own. He could not tell if the brushing of legs was an accident or not. This illusion she was playing was getting harder to decipher. Were they role playing or actually connecting? Since when did Tiber fall into traps of women? How long had it been? Either way, Lanara was making all the right moves with her confident and strong behavior which was rare for the wolf. Her mysterious attitude was making him lean in more to the point that she would be able to smell him. Mint and natural must. Though, as she mentions that she is closer, he snaps back into the reality that they are in and he kind of pulls himself away from her nonchalantly. His leg moves from her slender calf. She might have not expected that and while she reaches for the ice, he takes a swig of the ale while eyeing the cherry stems. The reality. The reality. This was not real, but she was good. She leans up and he stares at her cleavage before shifting his amber hues quickly on his drink. Because Tiber was who he was, he clears his throat. “Good scene,” he almost chokes on his ale. He seemed flustered in the good sense, but he needed to stop. “You’re scary incredible. Maybe I should just send you in as bait.” He wanted to hit himself for ending it so quickly, but he was drowning in her flirtatious behavior. He stares forward as he downs the rest of the ale.

Lanara isn’t sure if Tiberius is going along with their little role play, merely pretending to be an interested single male, enjoying his drink and the company of a flirtatious woman, or if it’s something more. For a few moments she’s caught off guard, and she finds herself wanting his hands to brush through her own lustrous locks, rather than his sandy waves. The toothpick draws her attention to his mouth, both of them having the use of props, and she imagines those lips pressed against her own, her dark gaze glued to the twirling of the pick. He was toying with her, she realizes, as he slowly leans away from her and her leg is shifted from his calf. She was foolish to think they were having a connection of any sort, right? Plus, she swore off the ridiculous notion of dating ever again, as it only ended in heartache. This man wore secrecy and cunning like a glove, and though she was incredibly attracted to the edgy, bad boy image, she knew it was probably best to keep her distance. Well, as much distance as sharing a two bedroom apartment for two weeks allowed. Still, she finds herself so drawn in, that she wants to second guess her movements, to up the ante, and she’s disheartened when he calls their little game to an end. It had been quite some time since she last felt so sure of her skills, since she felt desirable, and since she ‘connected’ with a male, even if it was all a ruse. Lana ponders if he’s a homosexual, or maybe she had imagined the whole flushing of his cheeks, the heat from his breath upon her neck, the way that his eyes focused on her form. Wait. Why did she care if he was into men or women?! Instantly, she rises from her chair and cleans up the cherry stems, reality crashing against her, as the waves would to the shore. Her glass of water wasn’t sangria, merely ice cubes and a few cherries she had snagged from the fruit bowl on the counter. The ‘barmaid’ was nothing more than a kitchen sink. And they weren’t in a tavern full of thirsty patrons, as their only audience was a black kitten. The only reality of the entire illusion was that she was wearing high heels. Yet, neither of them could deny that it wasn’t magical, that they didn’t feel something so real, even if only for a few moments. Lana drops the ‘Stacy’ alias, and grins at Tiber, “Thanks! You’re not so bad yourself… I hope you learned a few pointers there. And thanks for being a perfect gentleman. Most men would have tried the whole groping routine, or have invited me back to their place. Am I not your type, Tiber?” Back to teasing, and standing a few feet away, she feels more in control of those random emotions. There’s a long pause as she studies him, “Bait? I… I suppose using me as bait could work. Though I was really excited about dressing you up and doing your make-up. That can wait for another day, as well as you dressing me up in something horrible! You can be my friend, or cousin, or just watch me from afar and strike when I give the signal to rob the man blind. I will need something super sexy for tonight… And we’ll have to devise a plan. Can I have a permission slip so that I can head out and get some clothes? I’ll need to pick up a few supplies for Salem, as well.” Lana doesn’t ask him to join her, though he’s welcome to, of course. She figures they could both use an hour or two to cool off, after their morning of role playing.

The wolf liked to keep an image for himself. He preferred to remain mysterious to most people. No one could ever tell if he was a good man or not. He was trustworthy one moment, but would stab one in the back the next. He kept his words, but he kept his word for many people. People assigned him to do tasks for something in return. Although Tiberius is almost wrapped around Lanara’s finger, he realizes that he needs to keep his word and let her go and move forward. Especially so he could get what he wanted back. His money. Tiberius was the typical bad boy, so in her right mind, it would be smart to steer clear before he dragged her in corruption. “Well, dressing me up would be entertaining, but there’s no way I can keep up with that,” he runs his eyes over her body momentarily, but keeping his word, he downs the rest of his ale instead. He almost chokes up the liquor again as she asks him if she was his type. His neck grows a shade again. “I think you fit the type for many,” it was neither a yes or a no. He liked to keep the game that way and remain with his inexplicable demeanor. “I prefer friend. Wingman per say. Not like you need me, but I have an eye for men with a little extra coin in their pockets,” he shrugged. “Also, gotta make sure we don’t get in another Skitch situation, yeah?” As she mentions the permission slip, he stares at her long and blankly for a while before giving her a simple nod. He moves away from the kitchen towards the living area. He settles on the grey couch and leans over a coffee table before dipping a quill in ink on a stack of parchment slips he inherited from Skitch prior to leaving. “Should I write… ‘Lanara is to be my mistress and escort me to the clubs tonight’?” He grins even though it was sick humor. He writes something down anyway. He then signs the slip in scribbled cursive before waving the slip in the air idly for her to take and leave him for a couple hours.