"Truthfully, I don't know. I've never been. Considered it, but..."

A shrug of her shoulders that she hopes isn't read into. She'd gladly step behind the veil of it being because she's a successful slut, but the real truth of it is that she doesn't know what she'd walk in and ask for. Easier, with hookups, to ask them what they want, and go from there.

(Her scent has changed, since the autumn. Less lingering blood and crackling electrical fire, new notes to interweave with the old hurts. A place where the air is clear, the water is clean, and the moss is soft underfoot. Mushrooms touched with a kiss of frost. More rested. More rainfall.)