seveninchmotto | Room 301, Sunday Morning

It had been kind of an uneven dance. It had had a good start, with funny decorations and a hot date. Then there was that debacle in the middle with Alec's birthday cake and unfortunately timed transformation, and Isabelle being restrained enough to not hit Sparkle over his stupid accusations. (Look, she was not the best cook or baker in the world, sure, but whatever she made did not turn people into panthers, and even a dumb mundie should have known that and not given her reason to actually actively dislike him instead of intimidating him out of protective instinct. –– Okay, yes, maybe she was still pretty pissed about that.) But then she'd claimed her rightful place on the Homecoming Court. And then she'd sadly had to ban Raleigh from the room for the night because there had clearly been a need for private celebrations with her date.

And now she was stretched out next to said date on her bed, amidst all her black bedding and ridiculously fluffy pillows. Starting to wake up but taking her time getting there.

[ooc: For the werewolf. The graveyard one. Raleigh modded with permission. (I'm pretty sure "DAMN IT, ISABELLE" was permission.)]

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"Feeling's mutual," Isaac said, making a show of lowering his gaze some. "So I'd be allowed in your harem then?"

"Oh yes." She nodded. And definitely didn't shift to make her chest more prominent. That was all in his head. "Top tier harem material."

All in his head or not, Isaac definitely appreciated it. Probably obvious from the way he wasn't bothering to look up. "I'm truly honored."

"Or staring at my chest." Since she'd pretty much invited him to do that, she didn't exactly sound accusatory. "Honestly, I think I prefer the staring."

"Appreciating," Isaac said, looking back up. "I was appreciating your chest."

"Appreciating involves more touching," Isabelle retorted, tapping a few fingertips against where her hand had stilled halfway down his torso. "Staring's just staring. And don't get me wrong, it's nice too. Just a different thing."

"Hmm, I learned something new today." This, of course, now meant that Isaac had to fully appreciate properly and slide his hand over to her chest. Which wasn't a hardship for him at all.

No, Isabelle figured it wasn't. She liked it as well, even if the pleased little sigh was mostly affectation.

"Well, I have school spirit and clearly also a commitment to education."

"Clearly it's why you got elected our princess." Yes, that was how those decisions were made, not by hotness and charm.

"Obviously." There were some nails over his ribs now. She was terribly sorry, except not. "Even if it was a shared title, it was nice to see the student population acknowledge my contributions to the school. Especially after the pointless hate I got earlier."

She was going to be pissy about that forever.

"I can't believe somebody thought cooking could turn you into an animal," Isaac said, squirming a little at the feeling. "I didn't turn into anything after I ate your cooking."

He just felt nauseous afterwards.

Isabelle did not find the squirming a discouragement. She had some pretty long nails and he had a lot of skin to cover.

"Right? It's not as if my cooking turned into fair folk food by accident, and even if it did, I wouldn't feed it to my brother."

She'd probably feed it to Sparkle first, if she was honest.

Isaac's nails weren't long (unless he wanted them to be) but he could still use them to stroke them down Isabelle's stomach. "It'd be a pretty cool trick to have though."

"I guess." She was momentarily distracted by a shiver, but shivering was good. "Not very useful, but potentially amusing. As long as I never ate any of it myself."

It was a mystery whether she ever ate any of her own cooking anyway.

"But I think you'd make a cute panther." Teasing, he was teasing.

Isabelle dug her nails into the skin at his side a little harshly anyway.

"Is that so?"

Isaac laughed and squirmed some more. Luckily her nails felt more like tickling than anything else. "Hey, panthers are cute and intimidating. I'd probably turn into a cocker spaniel."

'Cause, you know. The hair.

"And that would be adorable." And she had to leave his side be because she needed that hand to ruffle his spaniel-y hair. "But you already have an animal to turn into."

"Werewolves aren't very cute though," he said, leaning in towards Isabelle's touch. "The opposite of cute, in fact."

"So I've heard." From him, even. She kept running her fingers through his hair. "You're pretty clean for a werewolf, though."

Or, werewolves where she was from were more dirty than average.

Room 301, Sunday Morning

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