"I don't know, Catra, will it bring back my bread?"

She shouldn't push her luck, Adora knows. But Catra is nothing short of irresistible like this, laughing and squirming and wholly her own. (And she really did want that bread -- though it pales in comparison with each passing moment.)

It's just not a fair request to make of her. How is she supposed to pull her hands away, when Catra's writhing has dragged up her shirt to expose the fluff of her tummy? How can she not slip her fingers right there, rake them greedily through soft fur and quivering flesh?

--But she's not heartless. She'll offer Catra a way out, see. "Say please."