Leave No Choice

Keith was soaked and all, but at the moment, he now had his breath to a calm rhythm, and the stark red that flushed his skin from all of the tension he had slowly vanished in sight. He tried his best to sit upright despite how he was beyond weakened for the whole time he was in such a struggle.

"You are…"

[Save your words.] After which, Mystique threw a gray duffel bag at Keith; she turned around, donning the hood of her cloak.  [Perhaps you lived your whole life this way?]

"Y—Yes…"

[I suppose you need to get yourself dressed, for the meantime, don't you think so?]

His face flushed beet-red after she turned around, snapping back to the matter at hand that he was naked, gaping at his body. Without any hesitation, he grabbed onto a few clothes that sprawled on the pile of sacks, covering himself in tremble—at least a small self-preservation in front of a well-known noble among the lands.

A feisty, vicious lady at that.

[I won't eat you.]