Katina Choovanski

And maybe it was the smile, or maybe it was the thing with the hair, or maybe something Arthur had said had been bobbing about in Katchoo's mind for quite a few days now, but one way or another there was something a little more . . . intent, if you will, than usual about how Katchoo let her fingers trail down the back of Francine's neck once she'd gotten the clasp fastened. Which, for the record, was more difficult than it really ought to have been for a reason that had nothing to do with it being tiny, or Katchoo being out of practice.