sweet lady, she knows she looks good

Minoth can whistle sharply, and he can whistle softly. He can be smooth, and he can be subtle (most of the time, most of the time). Addam can't be either or any of those things unless he pops two fingers in his mouth and blows; subtlety, for the bastard prince, is always and exclusively the gift of a glorious accident. Flanderizing, I know, but isn't it only true?

So Minoth's whistle is low, and Addam's answering bark of "Hello? What's this?" is high, high, high. Which is interesting, given that Minoth's the one actually being snapped to attention.

Eyes wander, waggle, rove...

"What, you didn't notice?"

"Not my main predilection, Prince - but, since it's Flora...I'll make an exception."

They're talking, of course, about...well, what do I want to call it? Hindquarters is a good start, only it sounds a little too much like we're talking of cattle, and Minoth may relish the occasional comparison, but certainly not in this context, where the limiting and limited merit of the male gaze is being tested and the object (there, you see) of attention isn't even any longer in the room to laugh with the lookers.

I'll be blunt: Addam and Minoth are gazing appreciatively at the departing silhouette of Flora's rear, admiration only increased by the way her usual faded pink dress hangs higher as a result of her near-term pregnancy. The flouncy trim at the bottom swishes this way, that way...and even Minoth, who's usually interested primarily in the generosity of people's fronts, is intrigued. Addam, of course, spends enough time dallying in observation of the way Minoth looks from behind that the act is far from out-of-character.

There's not much more to say about it, so they don't. It'd be embarrassing to, really, but they yet linger in that liminal space, not quite embarrassed enough to shiftily avert eyes and sit on hands (under thighs, which are attached to...there, you see).

But eventually Flora comes back, note made or snack retrieved or next ball of yarn wound, whichever. It's always like this; the men sitting, watching, waiting, doing absolutely nothing of value, and Flora busying about, being quite accomplished and quite a bit more cute for it.

She settles in her seat, humming, taking quiet stock of the room, and Minoth mutters something that isn't actually anything to Addam, and Addam laughs, pretending to understand, before actually realizing that he doesn't because he couldn't and can't. The needles swish (like the skirt). Flora inspects a callus developing on her right middle pinky knuckle.

And then she stands, taken by a sudden thought as kitten chases butterfly, and Minoth, also catlike, pounces on the opportunity. She stands slowly, of course, so there's a real process to watch.

(I suppose Addam just drools, if we must.)

"Minoth?"

"Whuh- yeah?" Butterfly blinks jerk him up, hands shoved twixt thighs.

"What are you doing?"

"Me? I'm just sitting."

"No you're not," Flora replies scornfully, expressive brows (not quite to the cowboy's illustriously jagged standard, but close) lowering and fists settling invisibly on the line where once there were hips.

"Do I look like I'm standing?"

"To attention..." Addam whispers, and goes unpunished for it.

"Is there something over there...?" She turns, finds nothing.

"Architect's sake, Flora, I'm looking at your butt! Are you happy now?"