Quindar’s dulcet voice hummed across her left bare shoulder, as Morgan sat in her bath. Pursing her lips in irritation, she cursed the failed wards. A sideways glance detected a large green beetle, almost indistinguishable from the patina on the tub’s rim. For a moment, she considered flicking it into the water and watching it drown.
“Enjoying yourself, pet?” Quindar said through the enthralled bug.
“Still skittering into places you’re not wanted, I see.”
His laugh flushed her skin. “I’m told you have dal’Shashar. A bluff, perhaps?”
“Amused, but I’ve let you play off leash for too long.”
(Written for The Prediction. Challenge words: dulcet, bluff, patina)