Demian’s lips thinned, nearly disappearing beneath the monstrous mustache shadowing his upper lip, as he made a mark in the ledger. “This adds to the deficit, you understand.”
“I can’t control the weather,” Raina said heatedly, fingers twitching towards the shock-rod buckled across her hip.
“No, but Teltharian can, and he was buried between your legs at the time.” He eyed her, sniffing when Raina didn’t blush.
“I told you it was too dangerous to travel,” Raina said, purple eyes smoldering. “People died because you are too cheap to replace our shields!”
“Careful, girl! Selling you would solve many problems.”
(Written for The Prediction, 2nd entry. Challenge words: buckle, deficit, purple)