Clean

Her fingers glided over his chest, her eyes looking up at him. It was the first time she had touched him there, and she could feel the muscles beneath his shirt. "It wasn't like I had ink and quill on hand." Looking towards the bar, she started walking.

"Too bad I like my men clean." The road was flooded with towns people, Winifred made a conscious effort to not touch any of them. It meant dodging them at times, but she acted like they would give her a disease. When she reached the bar she looked up at th wooden sign with a dry mouth coming to her attention.

"You're going to at least buy me a drink, right? It will probably only take one anyways." She wasn't talking directly at him, More so, talking towards the people inside and the occasional man who glanced her way.