Lydia had paused for a split second to glance up when she heard Morgan inhale, but carried on once she realized that Morgan would do her best to stay still. She had to remind herself that humans were ... squeamish. A cold touch was often enough to make them jump, but it was the soft, feathery touches that really made them squirm. Lydia'd always thought that was odd and amusing, how ticklish they could be. It was unheard of, for vampires.<br/><br/>"Hm?" She made eye contact with Morgan, not expecting the question, especially not one that wasn't about the case. It was personal, though not particularly invasive, so she figured there'd be no harm in answering. "I suppose you could say that, although I don't do it very often." She kept speaking as she laid the final touches with the ink. "It's customary for vampires to grow up learning some artistic skill—," the pureblood, wealthy ones, she'd neglected to say, "—whether it be music, or art, or whatever have you. I never cared much for painting. Too much to clean up.”<br/><br/>“But,” now finished, she wiped one last excess drop of ink away and looked to Morgan again, “when you have an eternity to live, you have to look for ways to stay entertained. Picking up skills is simply a natural result of that.”<br/><br/>Still holding Morgan’s arm in one hand, Lydia used the other to fan the ink, despite having an entire carriage-ride’s worth of time in front of them to allow that to happen. Some of it had already started to settle, but it was far from being dry enough to fool anyone. “As long as that sleeve stays put, we’ll be fine.”<br/><br/>And suddenly, they were left with only one more task. The painting had been a short-lived distraction, but now Lydia was faced with the same mixture of excitement and dread. Worst-case scenario, she would be forced to pretend she didn’t enjoy it for the rest of the night. Best-case scenario ... she wasn’t even sure of what the best-case scenario would be.<i>Focus. Just bite her and be done with it! </i><br/><br/>Lydia stood slowly. “We both know what’s next, Morgan. It was a good idea, wearing that shirt. I can make the mark somewhere that’ll be visible tonight, but low enough that you won’t have any close calls at work ....” Her eyes trailed over the Enforcer’s neck, scanning for the perfect place to sink her teeth. She wasn’t sure if she could find just one. She swallowed, trying to ignore Morgan’s pulse lest she do anything hastily. This was bad. She let a soft smile cross her features, if only to offer some sort of reassurance. “I won’t do anything until you tell me you’re ready, but, as a suggestion, I’d say...,” Lydia leaned forward slightly, hovering above Morgan as she placed her finger at the location she’d chosen, right above the curve of Morgan’s collarbone on her left side, “right here.” She held her finger there and met Morgan’s gaze, waiting for a sign of approval. She hoped Morgan wouldn’t keep her waiting too long. If she didn’t give Lydia enough time to dwell on it, maybe she’d be lucky and it wouldn’t be as bad — well, as<i>good</i>, actually — as Lydia feared.