I knock on her door. When she doesn’t answer right away, I knock a second time, and a third. When I raise my hand to the door a fourth time, I call out, “I’m not leaving until we talk, Barlia.” Before I can finish knocking, the door rips open and the human female glares out at me, her metal-studded wooden club in hand. “What.” “Hello, neighbor,” I purr at her. “What?” she states again, her tone hostile. What indeed? I just smile, because my true purpose was to come and see if she smelled as good as I remembered. Turns out she smells even better, and I want to just drink in her scent.
