Melisa spread her collection of random items across her bed, examining each one with the intensity of a general planning a decisive battle.
"Okay, so here's what I've got: leather gloves, silk gloves, wool gloves, cotton gloves—"
"Why do you have so many gloves?" Raven asked from her desk, where she was methodically sharpening one of her daggers.
"I don't. I borrowed them from literally everyone I know." Melisa held up a particularly fancy pair with embroidered lace. "These are Isabella's. She said, and I quote, 'I usually only wear these when I want to feel fancy while I'm stroking my dick.'"
Raven's expression didn't change, but she set down her whetstone just a bit more firmly than necessary.
"That's more information than I asked for."
"Yeah, that's kind of the whole problem, isn't it?" Melisa sighed, flopping back on her bed. "Too much information flooding into my brain every time I accidentally brush against someone."
