[ The brush of his lips against her ear sends a shiver down her spine. It's a stark contrast to the warmth against her back and the arms now curled around the small of her waist. Years of practice means that her voice remains remarkably steady in its aloof amusement. The slight squirm of her body from before however is impossible to hide how she had felt when he had brushed against the shell of her ear.

Her arms go to wrap around his in turn, but not before lightly dancing her claws across his hands. ]

Not at all. It would be hypocritical of me because I enjoy the chase too.

[ And that is true even without her masked persona present. The chase and all that it entailed was fun, so long as everyone else was having fun too — but it had felt like ages since she'd really done that in earnest. Not since, well... She brushes the thought away before it can go too far.

A butterfly floats towards them, and Hilda offers up a clawed hand. Remarkably it lands on her finger, perching there with its wings flapping lazily. ]

What do you usually do if you've caught your prey?

[ The 'if' is purposeful, teasing. Like an unspoken challenge. ]