"Rose, you go back upstairs first."
Ash withdrew his hand from Rose's grip and looked down, almost not recognizing his own hand—it was so white and tender and smooth. He felt that if it went on any longer, Rose might use sandpaper to polish it.
"We need to discuss some role-playing game topics," he commented. "Not really suitable for a normal person to be around."
Rose glanced at Vishi's beautiful feet, as white as snow atop the coffee table, and asked, "Do you need me to prepare some disinfectant mouthwash?"
"I won't lick, rest assured."
"I think it's better not to be so confident," Vishi stretched lazily, arching her foot with her tender toes pressed together, "but I also don't want you drinking mouthwash; you should be filled with gratitude and humiliated to submit to me."
Rose thought for a moment and cautiously asked, "Miss Vishi, you wouldn't attack Ash, would you? I mean in every way, since Ash is currently injured and any physical labor would affect his recovery."
