"Why are you pretending to be like this?" Sol asked, tilting his head. "Remember, you just tried to kill me. You tried to turn me into a firework to crack a lock. So, of course, there is a price for failure."
He looked her up and down. Even though she had been reduced from a hundred-foot titaness to a pint-sized, 5'5" girl, she was still breathtaking. Her skin glowed with the same sunrise warmth; her curves, though scaled down, were perfection incarnate. She was ethereal, divine, and currently, very portable.
A wicked idea formed in Sol's mind.
"If you want to go out," Sol said, leaning down so they were face-to-face, "of course, there is a way, you just have to satisfy me."
Isylia blinked, confusion knitting her brows. "Satisfy you... with what? Knowledge? Riches? Power?"
"Of course not," Sol deadpanned. "The way humans satisfy each other. Through sex."
Isylia's jaw dropped. Her face turned a violent shade of cosmic crimson.
