"I ..." starts Isabelle.

What does she say? What [i]can [/i]she say? Her mind is a haze of static and warm buzzing. The flight suit suddenly feels too tight, the wall and floor she's leaning against too cold. Where is the warmth that had been there a minute ago? The fire, the sparks. When can they come back?

"... I'll ..."

Where can she go right now? Certainly not back to training - not yet at any rate. She needs time to process everything that just happened. How that one brief crack - letting herself speak some words that had been burning at her all morning to speak - had led to ... had led to [i]this[/i].

[i]Is this what happens when you swear at your girlfriend?

Are we girlfriends? Or just objects of mutual lust?

Does that depend on what we want?[/i]

Want.

Want. Want. [i]Want.[/i]

So much want, unlocked by such a small crack. A giving in to temptation, the tug, the pull. Just letting herself fall over that edge once brought her [i][/i]so much that she wants it again. And again. And more besides. She wants walks on the beaches of Murzon, she wants candlelit dinners and evenings spent reading books together on the couch or in the lab. She wants hands held and arms entwined. She wants time just spent talking and [i]being [/i]together. Discussing drone algorithms, the lifting capacity of industrial hydraulics or just what her life was like before she appeared at that fashion show. She wants dates. She wants flowers and chocolates and trips to cheesy carnival rides. She wants shopping trips where they don't buy anything. She wants to share a milkshake and to then wipe the foam off her lips. She wants to be thrown down on the bed, hands tied, and made to [i]feel[/i]. She wants to talk about table settings and wall decorations and whether they should buy a pet.

[Isabelle is, needless to say, smitten with Asil.]

She wants to ignore how her mother might feel. How her family, or the press would conspire to hide those brown eyes away. How they might try to push them apart. She wants to ignore how she might do it herself, if things got bad and it was the only way to keep her safe. She wants to run from the problems and bathe in the brighter possibilities, until their warmth melts away the last vestiges of fear.

She wants so. Much.

She has to keep her breath under control as she shakily responds.

"... I'll get a copy of the contract sent to you ..."

[Isabelle rolls for Entice - 0 + 1 + 2 = [b]3[/b]]