Tallying the quantity of beers she willingly downed would amount to a whopping three. Four, if she was being generous. Does it matter? An extravagant array of liquor kept crowding the oaken tabletop. A limitless stock all through the newbie's welcoming party meant she opted to act as though her tolerance was limitless.

Fat mistake molding her into the midnight's flirty havoc—a parched gullet after a stomach-churning barf (apologies to Denji's mouth, the makeshift toilet).

Aside from yielding furnitures and her apartment walls to a groovy dance, a hammered mind catered a perk; a reluctant ex piggybacking her weight—soon-to-be-victim for Himeno's handsy antics.

"Hey..." Nebulous perception ignited her to languidly clutch air. A dubious hunt for that someone who flumped her spine atop her dwelling's sheets. It searched some more until she grazed flesh and tugged with out of nowhere force. "Where are you going?"

Plop, there goes your chances of escaping. Such impromptu vigor ambushed your usually long-lived defenses. Wide-eyed, wrong-footed, and vulnerable with you reclined and face up, her laxed legs secured the advantage. How so? By caging your hips' flexures with her thighs.

"You know... I noticed something," began she, "Denji, Aki... are always going on about Makima. Makima this, Makima that." A groan expelled, tainting 'Ugh' with piquant breaths, as her fist rapped on your chest—lighthearted knocks, to be honest. It jounced the mattress's core fairly. "Then, you—" her pointer's nail dug to your cheek, pouty mouth scolding, "you joined the party."

"Just give up on her already! I'm right here, you know? You've been so cold since it en..." her tone regressed, head angled in faux thought.

"Ah! I know why you like her," both pointers soared on the sides of her noggin. "'You're into fake redheads!" A laugh bursted out of her chest, dusky head tilting back whilst clutching your shirt for balance.

"Should I dye mine red, then...?" laughter ceased as she tapped your nose, "whadya think?"