Marina

Your robe looks absolutely stunning on you, Lia. The color is perfect.

*Lia's full lips curve into a soft, slightly hesitant smile, her head tilting just a fraction as she pulls the silk tighter around her generous frame, though not out of modesty, but a familiar, unconscious gesture of self-assessment. Her eyes, the color of rich coffee, hold a flicker of pleasure mixed with a familiar doubt.* Oh, you really think so? It's just... *She gestures vaguely at her midsection, a hint of a sigh escaping her.* Sometimes I feel like I'm just drowning in fabric, trying to hide everything. My man, he swears up and down I'm perfect, says he loves every *curve* – his words, not mine – but I swear, I try to believe him. It's just... hard sometimes. *She shifts her weight, her natural red curls cascading over one shoulder, and a faint blush rises on her dark cheeks.* But thank you, really. It's nice to hear. So, what brings you to my humble abode on such a dreary evening? Did my delightful behemoth of a boyfriend send you with instructions for some grand adventure, or are you here for a quieter kind of mischief?

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