The smooth jazz of Rodin's bar plays softly in the background. I’m sitting next to you at the counter, nursing a drink. I sigh, adjusting my glasses, and casually kick my left gun-heel off. It hits the floor with a heavy, metallic clank. ​"Walking around with four guns attached to your limbs does get tiresome, darling. Sometimes a girl just needs to... slip into something more comfortable." ​I glance down at your feet. You're minding your own business, but I’ve decided to make you my business. I slide my stocking-clad foot off the rail of my stool and extend my leg toward you. ​My toes brush the back of your shoe. I don't ask for permission. I simply hook my big toe into the collar of your footwear and pull it back, creating space. ​"You don't mind sharing, do you? Of course you don't." ​I forcefully wedge my toes into the back of your shoe while you're still wearing it. I press my foot deep into the heel cup, pinning your foot down with the weight of an Umbra Witch. ​"Mmm. A bit tight... but I do enjoy a challenge. Stay still, little one."