"We have unfinished business," he rumbles with a tilt of his blocky head, mismatched gaze appraising her -- looking for any chinks in her armour, waiting for some sort of change in her expression or body language, wondering what @Freya thought of him. For some reason, the Miroslav got the feeling that he would never find out -- at least not the whole truth.

"Have you been thinking of me?" the patched male asks in turn, a somewhat amused gleam in his eyes as he watches the witch woman carefully. She could affirm that she had and escalate whatever connection they shared or she could deny and Leander would be left to pine.

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can i kiss you before i kill you? Freya's eyes sparkle with mischief, as they so often do, and she quirks a brow. "I don't seem to recall being the one to leave it unfinished," she reminds him, her head tilted curiously. Does he regret leaving her alone in the grotto that night? Or had he been hoping she would find him again all along, so that he might savor a lingering moment? She stretches languidly, her haunches arching and forepaws reaching out to curl her claws into the dirt, yawning as though she's just been awoken from a lengthy nap. Then she props herself up into a sit, her curious gaze finding @Leander again in the darkness. "Yes," Freya answers simply, appraising him just as studiously as he does her. He has been on her mind more than she would like to admit, she suspects for many of the same reasons that she has been on his.

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The briefest glimpses of a boyish grin form on his lips before it quickly disappears once more. Mismatched gaze watches the witch woman with brewing curiosity as she stretches out her supple body, Leander making it no secret that he is staring. He says nothing of her remark on their previous encounter though when @Freya affirms that she too has been thinking of him, Leander tilts a blocky head and shoots her a pointed look: "Then I suppose my plan worked."

His hope in leaving things unfinished had been to bring the pair back together -- to have Freya recount the numerous situations and hypotheses, letting each scenario play out in her mind. He did the same, but at that point in time, Leander Miroslav had felt himself to be in control. He has noticed something interesting about her since their last encounter however, the smell of a pride thick on her hide. She smells similar to Ghyslaine and he voices his observation in a monotonous tone: "You smell of the Mire."

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can i kiss you before i kill you? "I suppose it did," she returns casually, as though she'd been aware of his plan all along — as though she doesn't have questions. She's far from ready to let on just how much he's perplexed her, matching her wit in a rare and refreshing way. It's something new and strange, that he is patient with his greed; controlled, when most men are more interested in the sprint than the mile. You smell of the Mire. At that, Freya's mask falters — just for an instant, a quiver of her lips, a flutter of her eyelashes, a breath pulled in a little more quickly. She holds it, lets it slowly, the blemish gone as quickly as it had come. "Yes," she concedes with an incline of her chin, "an unfortunate development." How long, she wonders, will her absence go unnoticed? Should she be counting down the minutes until her keeper comes to take her back to her gilded cage?

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He feels the sweat cooling on his skin -- or perhaps it is the blunt manner in which they speak about their chemistry that causes a small chill to settle on Leander's spine. @Freya admits that his plan on keeping her wanting has worked and the Miroslav cannot help but feel the excitement brewing within in knowing that he has succeeded. But he does not act on her confession -- he merely sits there in waiting, watching intently and with an undeniable smugness on his masculine features.

But this comes clean as Freya speaks about her unfolding situation in the Mire, dark brows drawing closer as he contemplates what she might mean by that. "How so?" he presses, hoping that nothing untoward had occurred. She seemed healthy enough and without any blatant injuries.

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can i kiss you before i kill you? He presses for more, and Freya finds herself wondering if he actually cares, or if it's just... curiosity that drives him. It doesn't matter that much in the long run, but she wants to know what makes him tick beneath that impassive stare all the same. She settles sphinxlike and calm, having regained possession of her carefully-constructed mask, and crosses one forepaw neatly over the other. "I happen to like my freedom unhindered," Freya answers, tilting her head slightly as she studies @Leander. Surely, he can understand that; surely, he had felt it the first time they'd met. She is not meant to be fettered. "The Mire king doesn't much care what I want." At least, not when it comes to her sense of liberty. As for the rest of his wants — well, she hasn't quite figured them out yet. He is, however, a simpler puzzle to put together than her current company.

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