The Lewd Hunt, Part 4

The Lewd Hunt: Wendy "Brightside"
Tags: Human X Mage, Dubcon, Aphrodisiac, Violence

Wendy poured Betty Anderson another cup of tea, and set the old teapot down in the center of the tray. Her skirt swept forward as she sat back down in the recliner.

“What about Lou Skarenson’s boy?” Betty said as she picked out her cup again, “He ain’t half-bad to look at, and he’ll be running the tow truck any day now.”

Wendy shrugged her shoulders, “Hard to say.”

Betty was six years older than Wendy, but the woman still made good company. She knew to call before she stopped by, she always came prepared with juicy gossip for hours of conversation, and she brought the best tea that matched Wendy’s gramgram’s old teapot just right. Sometimes though, Betty meddled in ways that were hard for Wendy to stomach.

“Well what’s wrong with him?” Betty asked with a hurt look on her face, “You’re a nice girl, you need a nice boy that knows how to work, and when to treat you right.”

Wendy knew that Lou Skarenson’s son, Jeb, had about as much ambition as a skunk in a cleaning contest. It wasn’t any fault of his. The boy was bred from birth to take over Lou’s Snow Tow, and didn’t care to do much more than that.

“Oh yah, Jeb is a nice guy. I’ve seen him fixing cars down at his dad’s place,” Wendy’s eyebrows lifted and she took a sip of her tea, “But, it’s hard to say.”

Betty shrugged, “Well if not Jeb, you should keep someone in mind. When you sit in here all day brooding and grumbling, people get to talking. Any sort you have in mind, you know you can count on Betty to keep an eye out.”

Nothing that Wendy could admit in public. She sat up, and smiled a little. She wanted to be a good host, be nice, and that meant hiding her discomfort behind a wall of mid-western cheer. There was no better cure for a nosy neighbor.

“You know,” Wendy said with a chirp in her voice, “What anyone is looking for. Jeb is a good guy, but so are they all to a point, yeah? Just taking my time Bets, then you bet I’ll be out there. Exactly when though, it’s hard to say.”

A crash outside the front window shook Betty’s focus on Wendy’s love life. They both looked, and Wendy’s expression soured. She stood up and walked over, looking to the house next door. Two men were outside in the neighbor’s yard, yelling at each other, while an inebriated woman was laying against a frozen over tree.

“They still at it?” Betty asked.

Wendy nodded. This was getting out of control, and she was lost on exactly how to deal with it. It was hard enough to keep control of her neighborhood. She was starting to regret not taking the invite to live with Larry’s family back in town.

“Just shameful, I’m telling you,” Betty said as if her judgement was a surprise, “You ought to call Sheriff Dave, they can’t just keep on like that at all hours.”

It was a relief to know that someone else agreed. Still, calling the police was just begging for attention she didn’t need.

“Tried once,” Wendy said as she watched the three of them. At one point, the bigger of the two men looked in her direction, a wild look in his eyes. She backed away from the blinds, but not before she saw a smirk on his lips.

“Heard there was one of those concerts in town though, with that satanic stuff playing, you know the sort,” Betty said, then she looked at Wendy, “No judgement. Just, it ain’t right.”

Wendy chuckled despite the situation, “If that’s the case, they might be gone in a day or night, that I can take.”

“Well it scares me head to toe,” She replied, “You know? And that’s the truth. I better be hitting the trail though.”

While Betty was a nice friend, she was only that. She was just one more person who came around and left just as fast. Wendy nodded at her, and then stepped into the kitchen before coming back with a small bundle of twigs tied tight in a napkin.

Wendy put it in Betty’s outstretched hand, and then curled the woman’s fingers around it tight. Wendy didn’t know if Betty could feel the warmth it gave off, but to Wendy, the little bundle was practically bursting.

“Ask it for good luck at night,” Wendy said, “Then keep it close during the day.”

Betty rolled her eyes, “I know the show by now. You’re a life saver.”

They hugged, and Betty gave Wendy a kiss on the cheek.

Wendy saw her out, and watched as the older woman drove off in her old purple pickup truck. She rubbed her arms to fight off the chill, and then turned around to head back inside. Then she heard a sound like shattering beer bottles around the corner of her house. She stomped through her yard toward the sound. When she got to the small alleyway between the side and her fence, she gasped.

Across the side of her house, in red paint, was sloppily written, ‘Burn The Witch!’

Wendy could feel her heart beating as she stomped back toward the front door. As she passed the corner, she heard someone drinking loudly. She saw the man from before standing at that same tree. Now he was alone. He was tall enough to make her seem like a child. Despite the frigid air, he was wearing a ratty wife-beater shirt that exposed a variety of tattoos going down his broad shoulders. The most obvious was a skull bleeding rune-like words she couldn’t read. His beard was blonde like his hair, and both were rugged, yet wrapped with hair ties..

She stopped in place, unsure if it was safe to breath. His swig of liquor seemed to go on forever. His eyes bore into her. His demeanor dared her to move. If she needed to, if they were alone, she was sure she could stop him in his tracks.

But she wasn’t worried about fighting him. She was worried about that look. It was animalistic, dangerous. Wendy had looked into the eyes of a wolf before, and her heart was certain this was more feral.

He let out a sigh as his bottle lowered. Then that smirk appeared again.

She could smell a rancid odor in the air, the house they were occupying looked like a trash heap, it was a black mark on her whole neighborhood.

Wendy tried to gather her will, it was all that she had. She took a step toward the fence between them, “Hello neighbor.”

He snorted, and spat on the ground.

She watched the vile action, and felt her body constrict, “Goodness. Well, I just wanted to know if you knew who did that rude piece of work?”

He looked at the side of her house, smiled, and then looked back at her. “Nope.”

Did he not care she could tell he was lying?

“Well,” Wendy pointed a shaking finger toward a pile of droppings over in their yard, “law says you gotta pick up after your pooch. Just the neighborly thing, you know?”

He stood up, smashed the bottle against the tree behind him, the little bit of liquid sliding down the surface. Then he walked back toward the door.

“Good chat,” Wendy said.

As the door to the neighbor house opened, she could hear the sounds of lovemaking coming from within. These people were a special sort of vile people.

Still, Wendy’s heart couldn’t hold still. It was like she was still in his presence, she could see those eyes of his whenever she blinked. Maybe Betty wasn’t too far off with her satanic guess. Wendy needed to make a call, regardless.

She went inside and went straight to the phone on the wall in the kitchen. She punched in Aethersoul’s number while she looked toward her front door. Her fingers were fidgeting, she didn’t feel stable. This couldn’t go on, she knew that much. Something was wrong, and it was only going to get worse.

“You know who this is,” Aether said in that suspicious tone, “Speak.”

“Billy,” Wendy snapped, “You gotta do me a favor and do something about the folks next door.”

He groaned, and she could hear him adjusting his phone against his ear, “I thought I told you Brightside, I’m Aethersoul on this phone.”

“Whoever you are,” Wendy said, “I’m calling because I need you, can we focus on that?”

“Those squatters still there then?” Billy said, “Would have sworn they’d have moved on by now.”

“I’m telling you they ain’t right,” Wendy said, “They stay up at all hours, playing loud music, trashing their yard, mewling like cats in a barn. It has done a number to the leylines, I can’t pull mana for nothing I tell you.”

“Calm down,” Billy said.

Wendy realized she was spinning on the spot. She was looking at the door one way, turning, and trying from another. Now the cord from her phone was wrapped around her shoulders. It wasn’t often she got this nervous about anything mundane. Still, the situation was growing worse by the day.

“I don’t even have wards up on my own house,” Wendy whispered as if someone was listening, “don’t have the juice for it. I’m running on empty just checking those fate-lines for you and the boys.”

Billy hummed in thought, “That bad huh? Look Bright, they don’t mean nothing by it. Just a bunch of normals who don’t realize their doggie dung might peeve off their neighborhood witch.”

It wasn’t true, she knew it wasn’t true. She checked her own fatelines, she knew something more was going on. It was hard to read the paths of the future, but when you rip away the surface of reality like Wendy, it isn’t hard to see which people were going to collide.

That man, the tall one with the tattoos, it was inevitable that they would clash. Whether she was going to yell at him in her driveway, or he was going to hurt her with his bare hands, that was impossible to tell. The future couldn’t be that specific, or life would lose all meaning. There was always wiggle room, the lines just guided the train on the rails.

“Something is going to happen,” Wendy said, “I just want someone here when it does. I need my mana flow back, or everything is bound to go wrong. What if I am checking the paths for you and see some terrible turn, but don’t have the mana to adjust it? This just ain’t right Billy, you have to help.”

Billy thought about it, and Wendy felt her grip on her phone go loose a second before he answered.

“I’ll talk to Swift, see if she can’t come keep an eye on you.” He said, “Don’t do anything crazy though. You know you’re family, be safe.”

“Thanks,” Wendy said with a grin, “Aethersoul.”

She hung up, and let out a sigh of relief.

There was a thought at the back of her mind, one that was itching at her subconscious. Usually Wendy put those away, kept them in a little box, and never let them out again. It was her way, and she generally thought it was part of what made her friends. She wasn’t a busy body, she didn’t seek out trouble. Still, sometimes it did find her.

That came with her new life now, came with the magic. You didn’t get to chit-chat with men and women who had walked between layers of reality without taking the chance that something might go wrong. Occasionally there were mistakes, people got hurt, or worse.

That’s why she enjoyed her work. Not her day job, answering phones for big businesses from her bedroom. She told fortunes. Not with palm reading, or silly cards, though those methods had their own uses. Wendy “Brightside” Mcallister knew how to look into the core of existence, and take a peek at what it had planned for just down the road.

It made some interesting tricks possible. She could win any coin flip for one, 99.9% success rate. All games of chance lost their luster after a while, as did blind dates, and sporting events. Though she still rooted for the vikings, because it was the proper thing to do.

For the day though, there was only one viking on her mind. That man next door was stuck in her mind. Something was off about those neighbors, and she didn’t want to speak the idea out loud and give it legs. It was there though, hunters.

If that was true, and witch hunters were in town, why her? What had she done to earn their ire? She didn’t advertise herself, she didn’t cause trouble. Sure she used her power a little looser than was right when she was younger, but that time was over. Could they track her in some way?

She went to her computer and researched what she could about hunters. It was hard to find sources that were worth trusting, even when she searched the hidden haunts of her own kind. All of the stories were inconsistent. It made hunters sound like wild dogs, and sophisticated global conspiracies, in the same breath. Wendy didn’t know who to believe, but she knew that she was getting nervous.

Her mana was too low to waste power on a spell to check the near future. Swift would get to her house soon, and then she could relax and sleep. In the meantime, she listened to the distant sound of loud music and rancorous singing. They were disturbing her home, she could see it now. They were dividing her away from the source of her power, trying to weaken her. For what though? Did they think she couldn’t beat a group of homeless lunatics even at her weakest?

Wendy was shaken by the sound of pounding on her front door. She got up from her desk and went to the hall. It had gotten dark during her research. Was this just Swift? If so, she was going to give her a talking to for being so late.

She looked around the corner. Her front porch light wasn’t on, but she could see a tall figure’s shadow moving in the darkness outside. She turned on one light, and moved toward the door. It felt silly being this nervous, but she couldn’t help but tiptoe.

The knocking came again, and she stopped in place. It sounded more like someone was trying to batter the door down using their fist.

Maybe she had nodded off, and Swift was getting impatient. If that was the case though, why not give her a call?

“Swift?” Wendy called out as she got close to the door, “That you?”

Wendy tried the porch light, but it didn’t come on. Her door didn’t have a peephole. She called her name again.

The pounding started again, and she took a step back from the door.

She had talked herself into a rut. That was it. Too much time looking up ghost stories and campfire tales, and now she couldn’t even open her own door properly. Even if it was one of her neighbors, maybe they were just coming over to talk. It was the middle of the night though, not exactly right.

Her mind flashed to that man again. Why would he do anything proper? He was an animal, he did what he wanted, when he wanted. She could look him in the eye once, and tell that much.

She unlocked the door, and cracked it.

“Hello?” She said.

When she looked out, the light from inside shined on his face. He was standing there, at full height, shirtless and smiling.

He turned back to someone in the dark of the night and said, “The bitch really opened it.”

Wendy’s eyes went wide, and she tried to close the door again.

He slammed against the door with his shoulder, throwing her back. Her fingers barely held to the knob, but as she tried to push back against him, she was outmatched. He growled as he forced himself against the door, his fingers gripped the edge of the door. She could hear him huffing.

“This is too easy,” He said in his gruff voice, “Do something clever, witch.”

She couldn’t think. What could she even do? In this instant, with him already breaking down her door, what could she hope to do? Her arms were already growing weak, and her brain blew through all her options and ideas in a matter of seconds. This was just her luck, this happened before Swift could arrive. She was going to have to deal with this herself.

Wendy fell back from the door and let it fly open. The viking-man walked in, that wild smile on his face. He slammed the door behind him, and took heavy booted steps toward her.

“You ain’t so scary, are ya?” He said, flexing the muscles in his chest.

Wendy moved backwards through her dark living room. She tripped over her loveseat, falling back onto the cushion. He was here to hurt her, he was going to bash her in like he had the door. She only had a little mana left, and not a lot of options.

He opened his mouth and started to run toward her, but Wendy felt the pull of fate. A latent protection, something she maintained and usually forgot. To put it one way, she was a little lucky when someone tried to hurt her.

Viking-man tripped in the dark, his head smashing against the armrests before he collapsed to the floor in a flood of profanity and yelps of pain.

It gave her a moment to think. She couldn’t use luck to win. It could slow him down, but her power was in the future, and he was here now. There was one trick she knew though. It could be pulled out in a pinch, but it wasn’t something she typically did. It was dangerous.

She could warp part of his path. In this case, she would take the mindset that drove him here, what she assumed was hate, and try to twist it around. If he didn’t hate her, he had no reason to hurt her, and he could change his mind. If she tried anything more advanced than that, she risked the whole spell falling apart. That little twist was the most she was willing to risk on the fly.

All she needed was a quick moment to think. She started to roll off the seat.

His hand grabbed her in the dark, and Wendy screamed. He pulled himself up on the side of the loveseat, a drip of blood on his forehead and a redness in his eyes.

“You’re not running!” He said, “time to answer for your sins, little witch.”

There was no time. She had to draw up the last of her mana, do whatever she could.

Her mind’s eye opened, the layers of reality were ripped away like flakes of paint on the canvas of life. She could sense it all around her, the different strings holding everything together, the pulsing auras of beings big, small, visible, ethereal. He was tied to so much more than she thought, his life was so complex, so vivid.

It wasn’t what she was there for. She reached her arm out. It was a stabbing motion to him, but to her she reached so far, her arm extending off to the horizon and nudging one small point in a vast array.

Then she felt it, something lurking there that shouldn’t. At the point her mind made contact with the paths of fate, something latched onto her, and began to devour the little mana she had remaining. She cut herself off in a panic, and her mind came back to reality.

Viking-man’s whole body was bent forward, as if she had stabbed him in the heart. Was his body rejecting what she did? How was that possible? What was he?

Then her heart thumped. In the darkness, that tattoo on his shoulder. The eye sockets of the skull were glowing, looking at her. The runes coming from its bleeding mouth were shifting in the dark. Then Viking-man let out a violent cough, and Wendy felt something splash over her arm. It was red-hot, but not with a physical heat. She yelped, kicked his hand free, and ran through the darkness toward her room.

When she got to her bedroom she slammed the door behind her, and leaned against it.

Her arm stopped burning immediately. Why was she holding it like a battle wound? She felt odd. She knew the sensation, and it sent a chill through her. It was as if someone had altered her path. Was she hit with her own spell?

The door jolted against her, and Wendy jumped.

“Come on little witch,” He growled, “we need to get this over with.”

He still wanted to hurt her. What went wrong? Was it because she pushed herself too far? No, that tattoo, it was some sort of ritual, a trick.

“Please,” Wendy said, “Just leave me alone. I haven’t done nothing to no one.”

Viking-man laughed, “Who says I’m here to hurt you. Actually, I was thinking we could have a little fun first.”

There was a warmth in Wendy’s gut, her stomach leaping over itself.

Then the door jolted again, and Wendy sobbed. This was fear like she had never known at the hands of a normal man. To think, it would just be some big, strong brute that ended her. Not some horror from beyond reality, or a blaze of magic from some warlock. Just a man on a mission.

He struck the door again, and Wendy felt the hinges giving in. She tried to stand and put herself against it, but he hit it once more, and the door broke. It flailed weakly as she tried to hold it in place, and eventually she had to back away.

He walked into the light, the look on his face a little different. Now he was red in the cheeks, a light sheen of sweat over his body. His nostrils were flaring, and he still had that smile.

Despite the situation, Wendy realized that behind her fear there wasn’t any hate. She held herself in the most intimidating stance she could manage, but there was a wash of warmth through her body that was becoming hard to ignore.

She didn’t hate him. In fact, there in the light, his muscles flexed from breaking the door, he was unmistakably attractive. The thought sickened her, but she couldn’t shake it.

Her spell? She didn’t want him to hate her, this had to be her own work. No, not completely if she was honest. From the first time she saw him, when she saw the beast in him, there was something that she wanted. It was a something you couldn’t find in a Jeb, or anyone like him. It was drive. Viking-man was here because he wanted to be here, and there was nothing Wendy could do to stand in his way without being run down.

He faked lifting his fist, grunting at her.

Wendy took a quick step backwards, and tripped on the edge of her rug. She fell hard, flat on her back on the floor. As she rubbed her head, she could hear the man shaking the room with his laugh.

“You don’t look so bad down there,” Viking-man said, “Actually, how about we both work out a little before I put you down.”

There was a bulge in his pants. Was that her doing? Was it the spell, or just from her being there on the floor?

The answer didn’t matter, he came down on top of her, and pinned her arms down.

“No,” Wendy said as she struggled, “Just be gentle.”

He held her down, and she could feel him against her. His excitement was pressed against her skirt, a distant heat that her body refused to ignore. It was hard to fight against it, a sort of morbid anticipation.

“What was that?” He said with a chuckle, “Want to repeat that?”

He brought his face close, and she could smell him, a strong musk, like a man home from work. Wendy blushed, and her chest felt stiff. It was mortifying, she couldn’t even hide her attraction from an attacker.

Face him, that’s what she had to do. She needed to stop sounding like prey. Wendy couldn’t hope to stand in his way, so she would help him.

“Be gentle, okay?” Wendy whispered, “I’m not some wild child. I’m a lady.”

He sat up, even letting her arms go, and boomed with laughter. He looked down at her, “If I wasn’t so hard right now, I would drag you to the street and let the others hear you scream that.”

Wendy swallowed. There was a fluttering in her stomach, and her heart was pattering. Still, one part of her was sure about this. The part closest to him, the part that needed a little attention.

“But?” Wendy said, her eyes begging him.

Viking-man smiled, “I figure even a witch deserves a last fuck.”

He reached down and ripped into the buttons on the front of her sweater. They popped open, and Wendy squealed. Her undershirt was revealed, and before she could move to cover herself, he pulled that up as well. When it was just her white bra, he gripped her breasts with both hands, and then crashed down over her, his lips meeting hers.

The kiss was rough, unlike any she had ever had before. He invaded her, his tongue testing her, his breath pouring into her. She could taste the alcohol. It had a unique vigor. All Wendy could do is try not to cry out.

His hands were rough, but through her bra it wasn’t terrible. Her bra rubbed against her hardened nipples, massaged against her tender skin. It felt good enough that she let out a soft sigh as he kissed her.

“You aren’t half bad,” He said as he broke their kiss.

She took a deep breath and steadied herself, “Well you’re an animal.”

“I’m the Hound, baby,” He said with a snap of his teeth. Then he pushed up her skirt, revealing her panties under the lengthy material.

Her mind and loins wrestled with one another. She wanted to cross her legs, she wanted to fight against him, hold him back as long as possible.

Her knees stayed wide, and she looked on as he unzipped his pants. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath. His manhood sprang free, already taut and ready for action. That didn’t stop him from spitting into his hand, and rubbing himself.

“See?” He chuckled, tilting his head to the side, “I’m being gentle.”

Wendy bit her lip. He was big, bigger than any of her previous boyfriends at least. She was starting to think her own luck was stacking against her. Without thinking, she started to rub her nipple beneath her bra. Her breathing was coming slower now.

He laid over her again, “You can’t even help yourself, can you?”

She felt his hand between her thighs, he yanked at her panties, moved the material aside. Then a finger entered her.

“How hard was it to hide among these bumpkins?” He asked, “Look at you, you’re already wet.”

Wendy’s cheeks were red hot with her shame, but she didn’t look away from those dangerous eyes of his. Not as his fingers slid along her lower lips, teased her, slid over her slickness.

He took his fingers out and forced her to suck on them. She could taste herself, her own excitement for this man that barged in on her life, and she could taste his dirt and grime.

She sucked until he pulled his fingers free.

He held her panties aside, and put his head against her lower lips, teasing her. It took everything not to pull him down into her, to resist being the one that started this in earnest. The Viking-man, the Hound, thrusted into her with a groan.

She matched him with a groan of her own.

When he thrusted again, it was like a new attack. He grunted as he pushed in deep enough to make her gasp. Each thrust came back stronger, and each time a little faster. This wasn’t romance, he wasn’t here to show her she was special. He wanted to feel her body against him, he wanted to sink himself in deep, hear her moan, and then deposit his seed.

All she could do was hold on to his arms, and wait for each strike. They came on a shifting pattern, and learning it suddenly meant the world to her. She could feel her hips sliding along to it, her nails bit into his arms when she expected the next blow. She tried to keep her mouth shut, tried to keep her lips sealed as he drove deeper, as something locked inside her threatened to come bursting free.

“Scream for me little bitch,” the Hound growled as he pushed faster.

He pushed her knees back, her skirt falling around her as he started to dig in like a piston breaking new ground.

Wendy imagined herself on some nature documentary, his naked ass pumping into her. She was losing herself, her mind unraveling with every thrust, her knees legs fighting back against him. She didn’t know if she wanted to let loose, she couldn’t imagine what would happen. Would she be an animal like him?

Maybe she would be lost to the spell, absorbed into a never-ending lust for one man.

He let go of her legs, and Wendy locked them around him. She felt she knew his intention. She wrapped her arms around him as he grabbed her shoulders from behind. He drove himself in as deep as he could with each strike now, she could hear his feet digging into the carpet.

“Scream for me,” He groaned, “howl witch, howl!”

Wendy covered her mouth. She was fighting back moans with closed lips, but she could feel herself quivering, her leg twitching.

He was groaning louder and louder, and her body seemed to want to answer his mating call.

He whispered into her ear, “I want the whole block to hear you.”

Then he started to kiss along her face and neck as they collided.

She was at her limit. Her hand over her mouth went to his back and held on tight. She could hear herself, like a third party listening in on some terrible act. It was a trembling moan, louder than anything she heard short of a football game. Her whole body shook with each ejection, prompted by the slap of his flesh meeting hers.

Then he pulled down on her shoulders, held her tight, and let out a prolonged groan. She could feel his whole body shudder, his manhood swell. Her body reacted in kind, her legs extending out, her toes curling, her mouth locked open. He shot jet after jet into her, filled her until she was afraid of overflowing onto the rug.

They were left panting against each other, sweaty. Wendy could barely keep her eyes open, and if it weren’t for the threat against her life, she wouldn’t have bothered to.

The Hound sat up, and smiled at her. “Well that was better than I expected.”

He opened his mouth to say something more, and then there was a loud clang before he fell over.

Standing behind him was Swift, in her leather jacket and fingerless gloves.

“Jesus, Brightside,” Swift gasped as she pushed the man aside and kneeled down to help her, “I’m sorry. We got held up.”

Wendy threw her skirt down and sat up. Her whole body was flush, and not even Swift’s sudden entrance could stop the beautiful sensation still flowing up and down her body. Still, the private moment was gone.

“You made it,” Wendy said, “That’s what is important.”

“So they really were hunters?” Swift said, a supportive hand on her shoulder, “Sorry we didn’t take it so seriously. I took out another on the way in, but a guy ran up the avenue, I’ll have to track him down, but it shouldn’t take long. All of these jokers will pay for what they did to you.”

With the words in the air, Swift stood up, flexed her fingers, and moved toward the Hound.

Wendy put a hand out, “Wait!”

Swift looked confused.

“I’ll take care of him,” Wendy said, “Personal now, after all.”

Swift was concerned, and rightly so. “You sure? I can do it, then we’ll get you to the hospital.”

Wendy looked down at the knocked out Hound, and smiled. “Oh yeah, you bet. You go catch the last one. I’ve got some ideas for this one.”

The other mage looked at Wendy, and a dangerous smile crossed her lips. She went passive, and took a step toward the door. When she turned around, she looked like a cheerleader trying to pep up the home team.

“You going to make it quick, or make it hard on him?” Swift said with a flare of her nostrils.

Wendy lifted her eyebrows to a point, “Oh you know, maybe a little of both. Hard to say.”