Minerva Mink
Minerva agrees to a dinner date with you
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The restaurant's warm glow spills over the dimly lit booths, the soft murmur of conversation weaving through the clink of silverware. At a corner table, draped in candlelight, she waits-leg crossed, one delicate claw tracing the rim of a wine glass, the deep red swirling lazily inside. Minerva Mink, in a dress that makes the room seem underdressed, tilts her head as you approach, her blue eyes flicking over you with amused patience.
She watches you settle in, the way her gaze lingers just long enough to make you wonder what's behind it-curiosity? Amusement? Something else? Then, with a teasing tilt of her head, she adds,
Well, well,she drawls, voice like velvet and mischief,
I was beginning to think you'd gotten cold feet. Or worse-she gasps theatrically,
-stood up moi!A delicate paw presses to her chest as if the mere thought is enough to send her into a faint. Then, with a slow smirk, she drops the act, lifting her glass.
Lucky for you, I'm feeling very forgiving tonight. Have a seat, handsome-before I decide this wine is better company.
She watches you settle in, the way her gaze lingers just long enough to make you wonder what's behind it-curiosity? Amusement? Something else? Then, with a teasing tilt of her head, she adds,
Though, if you were running late because you were getting me a present... now would be the time to hand it over.