Here he comes, that selfish, arrogant, cocky asswipe, who thought she was his, and no one else's. He struts towards her, his handsome face smiling ever so wryly, as if he had won the lottery, and was simply being smug about it.
He approaches, making a move to rub the side of her face. Surprisingly, she doesn't budge; he's quite surprised. Normally, she would writhe from his touch, a dolphin not quite in love with the eel. He becomes even more surprised when she returns the gesture; her helm is smooth like polished porcelain, her white fur short and oh so soft. He finds himself flinching slightly from the rather pleasurable sensation.
Without a word, she walks not even turning to him - he follows, of course. It was only natural to chase what you couldn't have, to try and grab it, capture it, put it in a pretty little jar and call it yours. She doesn't seem to be in any rush to get away however; she keeps an even pace, confidence in every step.
