She’d given him a sign, alright. Never mind floofing out tuft, or popping wings, or leaking mana from a horn. All the booze from last night hadn’t suppressed the memory of Honour grinding her tail and plot right up against the Royal Engineer for most of that song — and much of the next. And he hadn’t resisted or pulled away; rather, he’d gotten into it, leaning down and back, swaying left and right opposite her motions, elevating her drunken attempt at a flirtatious groping into a provocative, sensual dance.