Dawg and flowers? She could even see him with a few flowers in his hair though he would be a naked satyr running around trying to get at the nymphs in the forest. With Marguerite she might be one of the Sirens, laying naked on a rock, combing her hair as she enticed the sailors to their doom. Yep, that was Marguerite being the alluring female that she was or always would be if she kept things up. Still, she would be around for Dawg if he ever needed someone to talk to, hell, even invite him for a spot of drink to get his tongue untied.<br/><br/>Being dipped, Marguerite wheed and wooed, winking up at Dawg. Cleaning up pretty good on the dance floor came to her with family members into dancing while drunk or at parties. She could still remember her Irish great grandmother dancing while she held a glass of Guiness in one hand and her skirt in the other. Her great grandmother lived for another three years after that before a damn heart attack took her down for the couch. Marguerite missed her gran-gran and wished she could be around to see Marguerite cracking a whip and paddling a few naughty laddies.