Abigaille's gentle fussing took a turn as she wrinkled her nose playfully, her hands still resting lightly on Kafka's arms.
"Goodness, Kafi." She said, her voice carrying that soft, motherly chide. "All that playing around out there you smell rather stinky! I swear, I could smell you coming a mile away, all sweaty and dirty from your football games." She gave him a teasing little pout.
But then her expression shifted, her eyes narrowing slightly as she leaned in closer, a peculiar, almost intrigued gaze settling over her features.
"But..." She murmured, her tone softening as she tilted her head, her hands sliding up to his shoulders. "It's not exactly a bad smell, you know? There's something about it..." She took a slow sniff, her eyes fluttering half-closed as a loving, almost dazed look crept into them. "It's...addictive, isn't it? Primal, even. I don't know what it is, but it's got this manliness to it—makes me feel so safe, so at home."
