It was really not a date. Abso-fucking-lutely not a date. He was gross and he had called her a frog and implied he made out with her mother. In short, he was…more than gross; he was disgusting. And she was pretty sure he smelled, not that she was going to get close enough to check or anything. She was only meeting him outside of Phalanx because she was many things but a punk ass was not one of them. He was going to have to be the one to punk out. Still, she stopped in the mirror in the hall to check her hair all the same.

She had stuffed everything in her unseasonable jacket’s pockets, and her hands followed as she walked outside. It was starting to get hot in New Orleans, but she had a look to uphold. In lieu of a hello, she gave a…something between a smile and a scowl. “Us frogs usually really like flies in our coffee, you know. They're better baked into muffins, though.” It hadn’t bothered her at all that he had called her a frog, and she certainly hadn’t looked up pictures of frogs after their first meeting to compare herself to. She absolutely did not do that. The smile tipped more firmly into scowl territory. “Okay, Jeffrey Dahmer,” she murmured before he said he was kidding.

He actually did kind of look like him, she mused for a half second.

He wanted a cat? That was surprisingly…human? “I mean, can shifters, like, smell other shifters? Would he just have to follow the cat around, sniffing it to make sure it was an actual cat?” That was an interesting thought. “We had a dog back home.” She peered at him a little more narrowly, trying to wait for the punchline. Ah, there it was. She was a frog again. She gave a generous and dramatic roll of her eyes. “Someday, you’re going to wake up and your bed is going to be full of frogs,” she informed him with a shrug. That was a promise.

“What about you? Do animals even let you come near them?”

AND IT'S
THUNDER! ☁