She leans into Angelo's attention with the same kind of satisfaction of a Meowth lazying about in the sun. Letting it wash over her, a rising tide of desire that slowly simmers in the languid tilt of her head, in the knowing look in half-mast eyes. Silently inviting the pilot to have his fill - and more.

Always more.

"You look dashing, Sammy." Skyler balances precariously on the edge of the table as she tilts back, needlessly straightening the Gulpin's bowtie for a second time.

Her teeth flash out in a quicksilver smile that under normal circumstances would have made the Gulpin very worried about the well-being and continuous survival of his beloved kitchen. "You got this, no need to sweat. Just show 'em your cooking skills. That's what Angelo did."

The memory of Carvanha being cooked over a campfire in the middle of a jungle softens the teasing edge of an impish grin, but only just so. Silver glints with the barest hint of trouble as Skyler reaches forward to sink fingertips into brown locks. Nails rasping lightly. "I got you to be my ship's cook, didn't I?" 

There's a tease somewhere in the deliberately low, intimate rasp of her voice.

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angelo vestri

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'any woman would be lucky to marry me'

She'd said that about him, hadn't she? In hindsight, those words had proved strangely prophetic in a roundabout sort of way. She'd been teasing at the time, of course, but maybe... maybe there'd been a kernel of truth to it, even then. Unconsciously drawn in by ocean blue depths, perpetually poised at the edge of his next challenge.

It'd been intoxicating. Still is.

Nails rasp a tortuously slow path along his scalp. Everything else - Sammy, Dorado, other people - becomes an inconsequential backdrop to the tease on the tip of his tongue. Burning silver slides across a flash of sharp canines, and her fingers purposely curl into a tight grip around brown strands. 

Not pulling. Not yet.

"Then I suppose I'm the winner here, Angel." Skyler had long since made peace with the hunger that claws at her ribcage, perpetually reaching for something beyond the line of the horizon. Wanting more, always more.

It makes its presence known, now, in the unapologetic twist of her lips and in the low laughter that's breathed over Angelo's mouth. Greedy. Possessive. Affectionate. Hers.

"Too bad." 

She tugs on his hair just enough to lower her lips to his, a feather-light tease in direct contrast with the coiled lust brimming just under the surface.

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'Fuck his date,' she thinks with no attempt at disguising the furious frustration that spills into her expression. 'And fuck him too.'

If only.

His tongue whispers a challenge against her bottom lip, and Skyler's helpless against its allure. Desire pools low in her belly, holding her hostage in the most delicious of ways. Calloused fingers curl at the sensation - but before they can hold onto the infuriating man seated in front of her, he has leaned away.

Out of her grasp.

A growl erupts, unbidden, from her throat. The screeching of a chair against polished floors doesn't cut through the haze, but it does signal an end to their game. For now, at least.

The captain can still feel him against her lips, like a promise, and it only serves to heighten the fierce scowl that meets his all-too-knowing grin. 

Asshole. She'll get him later, Skyler promises herself. Preferably on his knees. 

(As if sensing his captain's hostility, Dorado puffs up and hisses threateningly, claws out and ready to wage war. Should anyone happen to look their way at that very moment, they'd find both feline and human hilariously alike in their misplaced rage.)

"We'll see who's left waiting, Angel." The threat is punctuated by a furious, yet brief, baring of teeth. Skyler's shoulder bumps into his as she all but storms off, her feline companion trailing after. 

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angelo vestri

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