2987/Gentlemen prefer blonds. What do redheads prefer

Gentlemen prefer blonds. What do redheads prefer
Date of Scene:	27 October 2017
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Witchfire, Black Knight

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Witchfire has posed:
Oliver was fed and reassured. No Princess Leia costumes in Ana's future. She showed him the door and tolerated a hug good bye from the blonde vigilante. Returning to the kitchen, his plate and mug are washed and set aside as Ana contents her self with cleaning up from baking and setting the pretty pies she made out. Dane will love them surely. That makes her happy, then she grouches, catching her self and sticking little flags in each with "Ana Only" written on them. Her pies.

Black Knight has posed:
    "Huh." Dane says from the kitchen doorway. "Strange muscular green clad vigilantes calling on you after dark. You feed -him- pie, but not me, and you are planning on getting fat." Dane indicates the pies she has marked for her. If she wanted to make him jealous, she won. His eyes show jealousy. His arms cross over his chest and unconsciously flex, as if to show off. His hand rubs over his cheek. "Should I be getting pissed? Or am I just being a jealous moron?" He hates that she can make him jealous like this. It's not what a sensible, secure person would do. Dane is a little volatile at best. This is just needling him already.
    In other words. She wins. He's jealous.

Witchfire has posed:
Looking up, Ana blinks. "Is he muscular? I hadn't noticed. He has a nice...bike." Her eyes narrow and she moves to pour Dane some coffee. "Chilly? I didn't here you come in." She asks, and tosses her red locks off her shoulders. "I am not planning on getting fat-that's a rude thing to say to your lover." She tells Dane tartly.

Black Knight has posed:
    He accepts the coffee. "So you're going to eat two pies, and all the other food we eat?" Oh, she really won. He's almost pissy. That has to make a part of her happy. His face certainly betrays some hurt though. He accepts the coffee with a little glare, but he remembers his manners. "Thank you." He remains wedged in the door, one arm cradling the other as he sips his coffee. A hand idly scratches at his chest over his heart as the injury heals. it must be itchy.

Witchfire has posed:
Looking up at Dane, Ana does fight the urge to smile wickedly. She puts on her blankest face. "Long day? You're snippy." She remarks blandly and picks up her fork, sliding that apple pie her way. "Perhaps I'm a greedy demon and eating all this pie won't do a thing to me." She suggests, taking a bite.

Black Knight has posed:
    "Other than piss me off. Sure. Which I kinda hoped we were past." Dane retorts. He takes another sip from his coffee. His brown eyes narrow as he regards her. A few strands of his hair cling to his forehead and dark brow as he continues to look at her.
    "Should I be worried I'll end up raising his bastards with my kids?"
    She's hit right at the heart of his poor relationship record. His fingers scratch at the wound on his chest a bit more, maybe a bit compulsively.

Witchfire has posed:
Blinking, Ana stares. "Were you here long enough to listen? He has a kid about my age. That man would no more take me to bed than you would a younger sister." She answers Dane flat, direct. "I made those pies cause I thought you would like them and I wasn't sure if that was me or the bond so it pissed me off. You picked my annoyance to control me-don't throw it in my face if I'm not a saint." She slides a pie towards him across his expensive counter tops. She turns her noes up, making to ignore him.

Black Knight has posed:
    "It hurts." Dane says quietly. "I think it reopened." He is staring at his bloody shirt. He sort of looks at her, "Stop." his eyes are a little blurry.
    It would figure that he and her could not have it easy. She might have to deal with annoyance. He might have to deal with jealousy. Just how much as he been scratching that mark?

Witchfire has posed:
Looking at him, Ana stops what she's doing, the simple command catching her and she focuses on his chest. "Take your shirt off, let me look at it." Ana murmurs and leaves off antagonizing him a little. There is concern in her expression when she studies him a fresh, the care carefully hidden under her determination to not go soft on him.

Black Knight has posed:
    He's annoyed. That much is obvious. After shrugging out of the shirt, the mark is fine, if bloody. It opened, perhaps from the scratching. The bottom, about where he was scratching, has opened and is red, raw, and inflamed.

Witchfire has posed:
Studying him shirtless, Ana sighs. She gets a wet paper towel and walks over to carefully dab it. "You are scratching too much. Does it chafe you to be bound? This is the path you chose for us." She reminds him softly. "We need to clean it and put some neosporin on it so it doesn't get infected-or more infected. I can't tell with all the scratching." Her white eyes flick up to Dane.

Black Knight has posed:
    "I get jealous." Dane answers, His frown is deep. "I got jealous, and it started to itch. So I scratched it." His frown is there, but he lets her fuss over it, following her to the bathroom. "Just slap another gauze patch on it, or something."

Witchfire has posed:
"You got jealous and it started to itch?" Ana furrows her brow. "How symbiotic is this thing?" Ana whirls suddenly and looks at him, looking down at the raw wound and back up at his face. On a whim she places her hand over the mark she laid on him. "I love you, truly and deeply. I would never tarnish that by sleeping with another." She tells him softly, looking supremely uncomfortable to be confessing her feelings in so many words. She lifts her hand, looking to the wound.