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Summary
Pantalone had always regarded Zandik platonically, transactionally. Nothing more than polite admiration for his ambition and intellect, an intimate understanding of his work habits, in order to plan around his eccentricities accordingly. She never thought she would succumb to professional entanglements until a new segment was made. A female Dottore.
"If I didn't know any better," Dottore said lowly, "I'd think you're propositioning me."
Pantalone paused, smiling. Her hand stilled from where she was tracing a feather-light line down her nape. Dottore's skin was prickled with goosebumps. Cute.
"And if I am?"
Series
- Part 2 of passionate feozan word salad
