With one meal in her stomach and another one in front of her, Misha's instincts react in the obvious way for a predator with a relatively small stomach. Acids flood into her belly at an accelerated rate, juices coating the prostitute and starting to melt away flesh at a frenzied pace to try to make room for what the back of her mind insists is another viable occupant just right there all wrapped up in her wings. Under Jules' hands, her stomach muscles- more powerful than her slight frame would expect, given their close similarity to the strong flight muscles that keep her aloft- squeeze and knead her meal's softening body more and more compactly, churning and shrinking right under his fingertips. She smiles faintly, feeling her prey go still with the pleasant hypnotism of her song the last thing on her mind, and leaning in she gives Jules a... well, not quite a kiss, but more of a long lick up the side of his face. "After the job's over," she says with a grin. "Come on, we've got a... long trip ahead of us. I'll just digest up here for a bit more- can't hide it in my bulk like Aethon. You go on down, I'll be along soon."