The constant click, clikc of her heels on the sidewalk could probably be heard a mile away to those of which did not even have keen hearing. Black stilettos to match her slinky and silky black dress that was not at all slutty in any sense of the word. Her black hair rolled down to the middle of her back in soothing waves and her hazel eyes were bright and looking.

Her pace wasn't hurried in the least but instead a leisurely sort of stroll. Her lower half swayed slightly as she walked, hips going from side to side on purpose to attract attention.

Her smile was perhaps catlike as she waved to boys she came across.

Oh, mama.

Lookin' good.

"Hey, babe."

And here's Hunter, lookin' good himself, in blue jeans and skin-clinging t-shirt on a lean, hard-muscled frame.

Oh my. She stopped and waved.

"Hello honey." Bright and cheery smile.

"What's your name?" She asked in a purr as she strolled up to him.

He looked away, shyly, and then glanced back up with a grin. "Hunter, babe. You?"

Hunter, coal black hair, sky blue eyes, is the epitome of casual.

Oou. She loved it when boys played coy.

"Hunter... what is it? English...?" She stopped walking when she was indecently close to him.

"Araceli." Anybody who's anybody knows Araceli writes for the Bayfield paper.

"Something like that." Grin.

"I read your articles religiously."

Hunter enjoys ladies like Jetta and Ara, I think. They're... feisty.

As a side note? Anything Hunter does, he does religiously.

It's a quirk of his.

"Religiously, mm? I could take that to be a good or bad thing."

Cat-like smirk again.

"Good, because I like it when men obsess over me. Bad, because I don't like it when men obsess over me."

"Doing anything, Hunter?" Her voice is silky and smooth, sultry and inviting. The name just rolled off her tongue.

"My schedule is blissfully empty. Want to do lunch?"

I'm presuming that it's about midday, and thus doing lunch is a possibility.

"Of course. Where to, Hunter doll?" She's making him choose because decisions are oh so tiring. She's also letting him take her somewhere because she can't bother to herself.

"There's a nice little pub called the Corbies which I like. Shall we?"

He will, of course, be paying. This is one of those things you can just tell, with certain ladies.

Hm. A pub. How delightful. As long as it's high quality.

"Nice choice. Let's go, then." She's letting him lead the way, of course. What would be even better is if he held her hand while they walked. But she was going to let him pick up on that on his own.

And of course, Araceli would be a very high degree insulted and disappointment if this cute man didn't pay.

He offers her his arm. Arm, mind, not hand. He's traditional that way.

And they walk for a bit. Do they talk? Her choice.

She looped her arm through his.

“So, Hunter darlin’, what do you do?” You know, for work.

"I've never really bothered with work." White grin. "I enjoy my occupation. I just don't let it get in the way of the best parts of life."

His work is the best parts of life.

So, he implies, is she.

"Ohhh. So I see. Sounds delightful," she purred, near resting her head on his shoulder as they walked.

Where are they now?

Probably almost there.

And if they aren't almost there, then Hunter can make them almost there.

"Here we are."

Hunter is feeling self-satisfied.

"Oou. Record timing." Araceli is pleased. She was waiting for him to let her in.

Well, of course.

In you go, lass.

Grin.

"Too bad we'll miss the weather."

Of course, with him inside, it might as well rain.

In fact, it'll start pouring the moment they step inside.

Because he can.

Also? Summer rains are great fun.

"The weather?" she questioned as she stepped inside. "It's nice, of course, but..." is a rather irrevelant subject.

"Summer's almost over here."

He'll be leaving soon.

And now? Rain.

Lots of rain.

Hunter closes the door, unphased by this.

"Yeah, a pity, but-"

Shriek. Gasp.

Her hair. Her perfect, beautiful hair. And her dress.

You did not just do that, Hunter.

She looked like a very pissed off wet cat.

Hiss.

Hey, hey, I was under the impression that she was inside before the rain started.

Not either of our faults if she has magical door-stepping-through powers.

Hmph.

Hunter appreciates the sight of the lady in the wet clothing.

For the record.

She was just a moment too late, I'm afraid.

She stared at him in an unappreciative manner.

"Hunter."

Grumble grumble.

"Yes?"

He's grinning.

What? She expected shame? Apology?

She looks niiiice.

Exasperated sigh.

"I'm wet." If she had a purse she'd most likely beat him with it.

Her heels clicked clicked on the floor as she walked off to the counter by herself.

He grins.

She was cute when she was angry.

"How very astute of you, babe. Want me to do somethin' about it?"

Aww, he laughs at her pain. Or dampness.

He'd probably laugh at either.

She turns, putting a foot down on the ground rather hard as she did so. Her pretty hands balled into fists.

"Don't be stupid! Of course I do."

HMPH. Bad boytoy, bad.

He made a moue of apology. "'m sowwie."

He's laughing at her inside, can you tell?

I'm sure you can tell.

He snaps his fingers.

Dryness.

"How's that, babe?"

She seems neither nonplussed or appreciative of the sudden dryness. She isn't appreciative of his apology, either.

"Better."

But Hunter better get her something good here and pay for it.

Hehehe.

First, they have to deal with a rather incredulous cafe full of people who just saw him dry her by snapping his fingers.

At the moment, the group of staring Unnish are just staring. They'll probably start asking frantic questions to reassure themselves of their own sanity in 3.. 2.. 1..

Ohmigawdwhatthefuckkkkk about sums up their reaction.

"Hunter?"

Growl. Fix this. Now.

"Babe?" He sees nothing wrong with this situation.

He's simply infuriating, isn't he?

Yes. Yes he is.

"Do I have to spell it out for you?"

She's near snarling now.

"Well, when one has infinite power, one does prefer to know what specifically you'd like me to do."

He might be exasperated. I'm not sure. He doesn't normally go with the grammatical approach, rather than lacksidasical and mellow tones.

"Explain to these poor fools, Hunter, before I have to kill all of them."

Temper, temper.

"Oh. Okay."

He smiled brightly at them.

"I'm lord of the sun, babes."

He gleams.

...I think this confuses them sufficiently, really.

"You feel like seafood? I think I want seafood."

And they're in a completely different location, a pier.

There are benchs.

There's a silent and noncommital old man with menus.

This is one of Hunter's favorite spots. Few people come here.

It's always sunny when people come here. This means that few unnish ever come back. It disconcerts them.

She likes seafood. She also likes sunny days. She's dry and people aren't annyoing her. She has no reason to complain now.

Her smile is still slightly irritated.

"Order something for me, Hunter."

He does so. It's a tasty, tasty thing.

I don't like seafood. I have no idea what tasty, tasty seafood is.

Use your imagination, pretty please.

He sits.

I don't like seafood either. Whatever he ordered sounded nice.

She sits as well, right beside him.

He slings an arm around her shoulder.

Personal space?

What is this personal space of which you speak?