At first glance, he seemed like just another example of what made
Earth so *tiring* for her. So many people, doing everything short
of burying themselves beneath the ground in an effort to hide
from, or even *deny* the feelings that burned within them.

As if anyone with senses couldn't see their loves and fears and
*needs* written all over their faces, their carefully hidden bodies.

And so Koriand'r was wary, and mostly unwilling to spend her
time with this one, but... but. It isn't that she was entirely wrong
about the man. He glares as often as he smiles, and his posture
is rigid with what he clearly believes is duty. But.

One of the first lessons the Titans had tried to teach her is that
there was a difference between public and private behavior,
and that a human could be a very different creature indeed
behind closed doors. It still smacks of hypocrisy to Koriand'r,
even years later. And yet there is something to be said for the
secret of this, for the *game* of this. To look at this man and
watch the green eyes flare, and know everyone else in the
room is watching for danger while she...

While she feels her body heat, and dampen itself in readiness.

John, she purrs with her posture, and leans against a handy
wall, hands spread and palms exposed.

His lips are dark as fruit, his tongue a pink glimpse between.
Later, it promises.

She can wait. For a little while.