Lydia's red gaze followed Morgan's sleeve as it slid up to reveal her forearm, the sunlight casting another warm glow over her skin. Her wrist made as enticing a target as her exposed neck. It was an area just as vulnerable as the throat, with a visible, palpable pulse waiting to be taken, and any vampire's eyes were subject to wander over such a display. It was pure instinct that Lydia's next thought was of Morgan's tender wrist being pierced by her fangs, her delicate fingers curling as she gripped her arm ....<i>Goddammit.... </i>Her invasive visions were bad enough now, and she'd only be getting closer from then on. It seemed like the night wouldn't be getting any easier for her in the "not-wanting-to-seduce-the-Enforcer" department. Not that that was a surprise.<br/><br/>"Good." Lydia nodded back. She sure as hell hoped some of that confidence was more than a front.<br/><br/>She knelt by the chair that Morgan had chosen, only realizing once she looked up at the girl how strange it felt to be<i>kneeling</i>before a human. She closed her eyes for a moment, blinking away the thought --<i>it was for the sake of the mission, anyway</i>-- before taking Morgan's forearm in her hand, her fingers resting gently at the back of her wrist. Lydia quickly realized, too, that this was the first time she'd felt the Enforcer's skin, so warm against her cold fingertips and every bit as soft as she'd imagined it'd be. She tried not to stare at her wrist, despite the pull of her pulse and her distinct human scent, and turned her arm the slightest bit to the left and the right in an inspection that was perhaps as indulgent as it was a cover-up for her lingering gaze. Her other hand reached up to trace a line directly below the inside of her elbow, mapping out the dimensions of the work she'd have to do.<br/><br/>Admittedly, that too was an indulgent move.<br/><br/>"This will do ...." She muttered the words to herself, reaching for the brush and dipping it into the tub of ink. It was common practice for vampires to familiarize themselves with their family symbols -- those with prominent families, especially. It'd be harder not to, actually; with the amount of places the Cleur crest hung at the estate, it was ingrained in her head: a shield behind the swooping figure of the ouroborus, which framed a rose at the center, all beset by other floral flourishes. To recreate the coat of arms as it existed as a plaque would require hours, but fortunately for them, that wouldn't be necessary. Tattoos and markings and branding scars were meant to be more representative than exact. Even so, she'd still need to be neat about it.<br/><br/>"Hold still," she said, keeping Morgan's arm in her grasp, though not squeezing, as she brought the brush closer to her skin. She pressed down, tentative at first as she made sure the ink wouldn't run while it settled. Once satisfied, she set to work, carefully drawing out the symbols one by one, clearing away any excess ink with the tip of her finger as needed. At least the focus allowed her to stop fantasizing as if this were business-as-usual at the Coven. "The ride to Adrian's estate will be more than enough time for the ink to dry," Lydia said, glancing up at Morgan briefly before looking back down to continue. "After that, it shouldn't budge for a few days unless you really work at it."