Trish blinks in surprise at the feeling of the woman's tongue on her flesh, and in spite of herself a blush creeps into her cheeks.<br/><br/>"I... hm..." The courier stammers a moment, before attempting to regain her "footing" in this exchange. Funny... she can throw a haymaker at a gun-wielding Ork, but a little elf licks her cheek and she's about as effective as a marshmallow pistol. After a moment, though, she decides that two can play that game.<br/><br/>"I like to think I do a lot of things that are<em>fun</em>..." She says, leaning forward again so that there's barely more than a centimeter between their chests, and millimeters between their cheeks. "Maybe one night when you're not working- if you turn the pheromones down so I can think clearly- I can take you out and show you."