The blood on her face accentuated the smirk she wore. As her head comes back up and she hears herself speak, her first instinct is not to step back, but to move closer. She had played this game before, with pups her age and size, mimicking their mothers and fathers dance of seduction. She knew the way to move, the looks to give, the sounds to make. You might argue that a wolf may not purr, but she made a growl sound so delicious one would desire to take a bite.

"What a fool indeed." She answers, an ear twitching as a sign of her lie. It was subconscious and inconvenient, but it was her tell. She knew the question only stemmed from a curiosity of how far he could go. Somehow, though, she imagines even if a brute approached them claiming her as his, the boy wouldn't back down. That intrigues her, and motivates her to keep exploring him. "That is, if such a man was ever worthy enough to call me his."

Her tongue laps at the excess blood on her face, unwilling to let it permanently stain her maw in any way, but there were spots she could not reach. Her face lifts slightly, tilting to the side and inviting the young wolf to take care of it for her. It is a dare, a risky one, exposing her neck in a foreign place with a child she just called killer. But she found little harm in it, the game was made to be played with a sort of carelessness for self-preservation, despite that being entirely the point.