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[ first off: don't ask questions about the username. Bigby assumes it's subtle enough considering no one here knows him as the Big Bad Wolf, but he doesn't really... realize... the implications of the abbreviation he chose. oh well.

there's more pressing matters to attend to. ]

Not even here a goddamn month and shit goes to hell. Because of course. So much for peace.

[ on camera is a man who doesn't seem very pleased with the current chaos of the recent bombing. a moment is given to take a drag of his cigarette between words, blowing a puff of smoke straight towards whoever is watching. ]

I need information on the fugitives. Don't care if you're best friends or you've crossed paths with them once. Backgrounds, real names, affiliations, common hangouts. Also addresses on where they live. Give me a scent to work with and they'll be found.

[ another inhale of nicotine before he smothers the embers on a nearby surface. he's still as displeased as five seconds ago. ]

Also don't really care if they're in deep with this Shady Fucker or just a matter of "wrong place, wrong time". They have questions to answer one way or another. Got a problem with that? Take a wild guess on how I feel.

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[ he can't help but imagine that the state of mind Rosalind finds herself in is one that doesn't see the light of day very often. it sure as hell isn't one for Bigby. perhaps the thought of such a rare moment surfacing for the both of them was why they were even continuing these foolish acts. what was supposed to be nothing more than an exchange of information escalated into a contest of sorts that culminated in kissing and now a former-sheriff-turned-man-wolf groping up a woman for the sole purpose of seeing what it would do to her.

at least he's getting an answer in one way or another. if the tells weren't so obvious in the way she sighs and catches her lip with her teeth, it is certainly her scent. he's taking another sniff, listening to her continue to try and remain coy even now. instead of responding, he bluntly calls her out on something he has noticed for who knows how long now: ]

Do you know just how well I can smell you? Probably not. [ she's pulling his hair by that point, and it will take a considerable amount of her strength to find success. Rosalind is successful, though, warranting nothing but a growl as his lips are now hovering her own for a second time. those beast-like eyes glare straight towards her. ] Let's just say that you might want to... nnn, consider a change of panties when I'm gone.

[ maybe she expects another kiss at this point. maybe she hopes he just pushes her into a wall and ravishes her, saying fuck it to the idea of drawing any type of line. whatever the case might be, all she gets from him is a sudden, deep squeeze of her ass before pulling away altogether. he's back to normal by that point, albeit maybe a little... tight in the pants. ]

Wouldn't want you getting jealous of me getting information that way, huh.

[Thank god her teeth are already worrying at her bottom lip; it means that she bites down hard as he grabs her ass, avoiding letting out any noise that might have wanted to sound. She won't give him the satisfaction of a squeak or a gasp, no, and that's the very least of it.

Because, see, there's lines. There's kissing and then there's this, and she might have encouraged that if he'd intended to fuck her (because frankly, that had felt good), but as it stands, he clearly isn't, and she's no intention of letting that continue.

That would be bad enough. But his words leave her all but snarling herself, embarrassment and anger threading together and leaving her glaring up at him. Her eyes blaze, and though she's a foot-and-change shorter than him, still she draws herself up, her mouth pursed.]

Please. As if I'd grow jealous of you bedding every refugee here. And the next time you have such a filthy comment, keep it to yourself or you'll get a slap.

[ there's a smug sense of satisfaction in being able to anger her. he feels that some of it is warranted for even going along with all of this as long as they did. all that was gained from their tense interaction was a need for a cold shower. if Rosalind's eyes wander, there's no doubt a visible outline running down the length of his leg that could only be one thing. he makes no attempt to hide it, instead running his hands through his own hair to fix it prior to crackling his knuckles.

transforming back into a human has a habit of making his hands stiff. who knows if he might need them to, you know. squeeze her ass against or something. ]

Filthy? If you want filthy, I can give you filthy. You're pissed that I've left you wet and you want to take it out on me. So go on. Slap me.

I'm angry because you're acting as though you're entitled to broadcast to the world what you ought to keep to yourself simply because you've got all the talents of a dog.

[But hey, never let it be said she doesn't follow up on her threats: the moment she's finished correcting him her left hand is flying. And if she manages to land it on him, he'll see she wasn't holding back, not at all; it's a slap with intention, because he's attractive but she shan't suffer any man being so filthy.

(Or, well. At least, not when he intends to leave her. She might suffer it a fair bit if he intended to bring her to bed, but much like the groping, it's right off the table now).]

No one else is going to know about the predicament between your legs between me. I happen to like that I'm the only one privy to that.

[ she doesn't know him well enough, but Bigby does try to make an effort at being an honest guy. even if he did somehow have friends to hold a conversation about this over (or a pig named Colin), he has no interest in bragging about how he aroused someone with his charming, animalistic traits.

nor will he talk about how he goaded the poor woman to slap the shit out of him. he doesn't budge or attempt to catch her hand, fully expecting it coming the moment she steps forward and pulls her arm back. there's a resounding smack that bounces between the walls of her home, and it just barely cocks his head to the side from the force of the impact. it certainly stings, but considering he's been hit up by a shotgun twenty times in recent past, he will survive. it probably does nothing but turn him on further, if we are being honest. ]

Feel better? Or do you need to squeeze another one in?

[Somewhere in the back of her mind, she's pleasantly surprised by that. Oh, he might be lying, of course, but she has a feeling he isn't. Why would he? He's been nothing but blunt and honest before now; she imagines he'd likely delight in taunting her with the threat of gossip if he were that sort of man.

But he's not. And that's . . . that's good to know.]

Oh, do let's save a treat for next time, shall we? I'd hate to spoil you all in one go.

[God, but her hand hurts. It was worth it, though, because she does feel a bit better. She'd gotten him to turn his head from the force of it, even a little, and that's worth something.]

Watch it. Wouldn't want me slapping you anywhere in particular. I tend to leave a mark behind.

[ she shouldn't need to spend much time in speculating to realize he is talking about her backside in particular, but. from the look she is giving him, he will assume that spanking her isn't going to do much to sate her anger towards him at this point in time.

without asking, her wrist is snatched up and in his grasp as he pulls her hand closer to his face. her palm is inspected closely, making note of how the skin has been tinted red from how hard she gave it to him (heh). the pad of his thumb runs along the lines, inspecting her closely and quite pointlessly at that. to the surprise of both of them — because clearly he isn't thinking anymore — her hand is brought up to his lips for a brief kiss before pulling back. ]

I'll look forward to the next time you need to get your frustrations out.

[She has half a dozen different responses to that allusion of his spanking her, and given her current anger, most of them are snarled. One or two are a dare, baiting and taunting, which surely would only help things. But (perhaps fortunately) he distracts her by catching her wrist.

She blinks as he kisses her palm, surprised enough to be temporarily defused. That's sweet. Sweeter than she expected, really.]

. . . you'll be the first I call, believe me.

[She tugs lightly at her wrist.]

I do hope this hasn't cost you your bounties.

[Oddly enough, though it's said wryly, she actually means that.]

[ what can he say? he enjoys throwing curve balls at the lady. it would explain why he's been so hot-and-cold with her since arriving at her doorstep. kissing her hand feels particularly off even to him, but that's one thing he doesn't regret. as she pulls her hand away, he will allow to do so, staring straight into her eyes in the process. ]

I'm flattered. [ she mentions the bounties and he scoffs, once again returning to his tie to idly straighten it while glancing back to her door. ] I got what I came for. —And then some. It shouldn't change much.

[ that's said with a subtle twitch in his lips. he isn't trying to provoke or piss her off with that one. ]

Best of luck.

[But with what party tricks he'd shown her . . . no, it shouldn't take him long to hunt those fugitives down, delay or not. Rosalind sweeps a hand through her hair, aware how mussed up it's likely gotten. Idly, she takes note of the fact her ass is still stinging; god knows she's going to feel the dig of his claws for quite a while.

She's still fussing with her hair as she heads for the door, courteous enough to open it for him.]

Go on. And Mr. Wolf--

[Mm. He'd already assured her of this once, but it never hurts to underline it. This is nothing to do with him, and perhaps he'll realize that by the slight wariness in her eyes.]

I don't stand for gossips. I don't want to hear about this secondhand. Hm?

[ all he did was leave her something nice to remember him by. he has no doubt that Rosalind may want to enjoy some... ahem, private time after everything has occurred, so hopefully she can think back on how his nails felt through her hair, her hip and her ass.

she's opening the door for him and he doesn't waste much time and taking her up on leaving. only bad things await if he stays for a minute longer. he walks over to her and is about to step outside when she calls out for him. Bigby doesn't immediately respond when she politely reminds him of how much she enjoys her privacy. he continues stepping forward, turning around only when he was directly in front of her once more.

leaning in and down towards her, she can feel his breath hot on her skin. ]

I have much more to gain keeping that little secret to myself. You'll do the same about me, I hope.

[It takes a great deal not to draw back when he ducks down, but she stays where she is. His breath is hot, and she swears she can still feel the memory of his canines against her throat.]

Naturally.

[She really will. Admittedly, it's not precisely to her benefit to tell people she'd brought a man over to give him information and ended up giving him-- well. More than that. But she'd have kept the secret either way.

And if she indulges herself once she's closed the door and she's certain he's far and away, that's her business. He doesn't get to know everything right off the bat.]

... I'm talking about the fact that you've seen my claws out in a sense. Not that you gave me a hard-on. Just to clarify.

[ at least he's honest. but he pulls back on that note, satisfied with leaving it at that. Bigby takes a few steps back, giving Rosalind one last once-over before turning around and making his departure clear. he waves to her from behind him. ]

Catch you later. Thanks for the help.

[ among other things. she better hope he hasn't gotten familiar enough with her scent to where distance won't matter. ]

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