Joan Spun to Face Jenkins
shoulders pale and beautiful- “Let us review the arguments for the various types.”
- technique called “painting with light”
- poison shortages
- indeed, every inch a king
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Joan spun to face Jenkins. Her diaphanous toga flared, then slid from shoulders pale and beautiful to settle on the floor. Jenkins crouched, dark and deadly, her gaze riveted by Joan’s bare chest as mine was transfixed by her posterior.
“There’s more than one kind of agency-approved makeup,” Joan said crisply. “Let us review the arguments for the various types.” Before she finished speaking, electricity arced from the tip of her mascara wand and struck Jenkins, who collapsed on the floor.
“That was an example of a technique called ‘painting with light’ — ahem, pardon me, I swallowed a bug — painting with lightning. It deviates from the customary approaches to weaponizing cosmetics, so it comes in handy during poison shortages.”
Joan turned to me. I was suddenly very conscious of my spiny codpiece.
“Don’t you think this mascara brings out her eyes?” Joan laughed at her own joke. Jenkins’s eyes bulged as she quivered where she fell.
Joan slunk toward me, cooing, “I think it was a shame the academy never had a prom. We could have been royalty. You are, indeed, every inch a king. And, it seems, more kingly with every second that goes by.”
Her approach was mesmerizing, but even under such duress I was thinking clearly enough to know I shouldn’t go for a tumble with someone who had just finished demonstrating her military-grade personal care products. When she glanced aside coquettishly, I sprang. Leaping over Jenkins, I darted out through the door she’d kicked open a few seconds ago. It was better than retreating and having to explain this setback to Svetlana and Heinrich.
bonus points for using them in order