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[never_francesca]

You’ve reached Commander Cook. Leave a message and I will respond shortly.

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[cactusy]

I still don't think you're real.

[She opens her eyes again, leveling her gaze at Franky.]

I think you were created to mess with my head. Does that bother you?

[never_francesca]

No. Because I know I'm real.

[She shifted her position a bit, loosening the belt of the robe, letting it fall back off her shoulders, pooling around her waist as it fell open.]

And if I'm going to be classed a figment, I'd prefer to be a fantasy.

[It's a challenge, an invitation, all of it. A declaration of intent, and an acceptance of terms.]

[cactusy]

[Shaw takes a moment to consider the response. Then, she steps forward, grabbing Franky's shoulders again - to push the robe down and off, this time.]

You better be good at fighting back.

[Because she's no pushover in bed, but that doesn't mean she likes partners who just roll over and take it.]

[never_francesca]

[Her grin in reply is eager, challenging, as is the following kiss - a step back from the table, robe forgotten...and a leg carefully sliding behind Shaw's to trip them backwards onto the bed.]

[As sure an answer as she's ever likely to get.]

[cactusy]

[And Shaw, for her part, immediately tries to flip them once they're down, trying to put herself on top. She doesn't even particularly prefer being on top, but, well. This is where the fighting comes in.]

[never_francesca]

[Which only provokes a grin, hands moving to her shirt. She'll stay where she is, for the moment, but her legs are moving, seeking position - she fights, and she fights cleverly.]

[This is very much going to be Shaw's night.]