His amusement made her grin again, and she tipped him a saucy little wink. "Of course not. In fact, she'll have had a horrible accident or something by tomorrow, just to keep everyone from knowing I was the one who socked her. Her ego just couldn't handle that." Devon giggled again, imagining the big and tall blonde cheerleader having to live down the image of a five foot five petite brunette landing her a black eye and swollen nose. Ah, glorious.

The news that dinner was going to be late had her pouting a bit; she'd really been looking forward to food right after getting home. But her father's hand coming to rest on her knee turned her objectives a little sideways, and her grin curved into something coy, almost sly.

"Sure, Daddy." She absently pulled the band from the end of her long braid, shaking the curls out of waist-length dark hair. Deft fingers slipped the first few buttons of her white blouse, revealing dusky skin and creamy lace, and she scooted over a little bit more atop his desk, the very picture of prim innocence in her short blue and gold skirt, white thigh stockings and black mary-janes (Christian Siriano, in Devon's case).

"Got any ideas?"