To Mount Madness

“Any idea what you’ll do once I bring you home?” she sighed, affectionately stroking his chest.

“Honestly, I’m not sure,” he replied, savoring the attention. “Probably get back to my routine and try to find a girlfriend - er - marefriend.”

Her hand slowed ever so slightly, as she fidgeted in place. “Would they have to be a pony? You have so many choices to pick from - not to mention a number of species you hadn’t sampled from yet.”

Shifting his focus from the ceiling to her face, noticing a slight blush in her cheeks, he was reminded of just how attractive she was. Her delicate female features, her lilting voice, and the sanity-defying sex they’d had evoked a rather interesting question - if she had the power to do as she pleased, how was she single? Moving his arm from behind his head, he gently held her hand.

“This might be a bit impulsive, but would you want to get dinner sometime?” he asked.

She stiffened against him, and her eyes widened, before she broke into a fit of laughter. “That’s a good one, Anon. I didn’t take you for a comedian.”

“Who said I was joking?” he seamlessly countered. “You’re funny, good looking, I’m sure you’ve got a ton of wild stories to share, and we’re both one of a kind.”

He couldn’t say what dating an eldritch entity would be like, but he figured it couldn’t hurt to at least try and romance her. Though she was definitely a handful, the relatively small amount of time he’d spent with her had been a blast. Watching her face go a brilliant crimson, as she averted her gaze and looked away, he hugged her tightly.

“So how about it? If you come over to my place, I’ll make us something to eat,” he added, sweetening the deal.

“As much as I appreciate the offer, you don’t even have your own place - that said, maybe we could get some takeout and watch a movie?” she inquired, fiddling with a lock of her snow-white mane.

“Wait,” he grunted, dumbfounded by her statement, “you have TV?”

“Anon, sweet summer child, I’m the Lady of Chaos - of course I have a television!” she snickered. “So would you like pizza or chinese?”

Delighted by the revelation, his smile broadened by the second. “Pizza would be great, but I’d still like to cook for you sometime. Not to brag, but I make some damn good spaghetti.”

“I’m sure you do, Anon,” she hummed. “I’m sure you do…”