A muzzle lowers, whispers in a receptive ear. Names, offered. This is a place of the fair folk, and an offer of a name is perilous. But it’s given. Let it be known that 3V Wuz Here. And more than that, the connections of a shared name mean that when 3V trots giddily back to Black, she’s trailing two wolves along with her. Only two; they aren’t a monolithic whole. But maybe it’s like atoms smashing together to form new elements.

“So this is my [i]girlfriend,[/i]” 3V chirps, and if she’s panicking at all she’s not showing it, she’s glittering like the disco ball, radiant. “November, like the month, like the heroine. Nov[i]ie[/i], this is Amie and this here is Lu[i]paw[/i]n, like the thief.” Do you know that thief, Black? Diving into cleavage, running from the Inspector, made kindly by the old man still young who loved the planes? “We’re going to get [i]hydrated.[/i]” She takes that clever possessive hand in hers and tugs Black close, tapping on the back of her palm like it’s all macros.

Go for the collar. She might be mortified later, but right now she’s exploding into stardust and you could tie her up with a cobweb and make her hop. Push her a little more. See how she yields.