Sakura pursed her lips speculatively. "<A strip club?>" She leaned against the dresser and traced a finger down the closure of her robe, between her breasts. It was a brazenly wanton gesture – but not a practiced one. "<Are you saying you’d like to see me get naked? And while we’re in your bedroom, even!>"
It would have been a lie to say Ean wasn’t affected – but he wasn’t affected the way Sakura probably intended. After all, she didn’t know about his ex – or all the ways that experience had fucked him up.
Ean’s nostrils flared: as much in anger with me as annoyance with Sakura.
"<Hell no,>" Ean said. "<I’m saying that if you apologize to my friend and stop taking stuff without asking, we’ll willingly help you if you just ask for it.>"
Sakura’s hand dropped to her side. "<I see,>" she said stiffly – and marched past Ean, out of the bedroom.
Ean shook his head. "The hell is she so pissed about?" he muttered. Then, without waiting for an answer, he went to straighten the contents of his top dresser drawer.