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Vexed would be in luck -- though it would seem as though her musings on her lack of luck with bucks would be embarrassing. As she pondered her previous intoxicated misadventures, going over each syllable with a critical eye and wondering just how in the swamp she'd said that, or done that, something rustled off to her left. Something big -- perhaps a lynx. Maybe, luckily, just another kimeti.

If she looked around, the clearing was ringed by thick, squat bushes with dark green leaves: and clustered in among the branches were purple berries, which hung heavy, glistening with juice. They were delicious -- tart and sweet, bursting with juice on the tongue -- but too many of them and Swamp help whoever had decided to eat to excess. Misery was a pale word to describe what would happen then.

If she approached, a head with long pink-and-yellow hair would bob up from among the branches; a buck, from the look of it, standing directly in the middle of one of the bushes. Branches had been flattened underneath his hooves and stripped of all of their berries; their purple juice stained his mouth, and his legs up to the knees. He licked his lips and quirked a brow at her -- a pretty doe. His voice was masculine, perfectly modulated (which might have meant he either liked to hear the sound of his own voice, or knew exactly how to lure in does with it): "Come eat some. They're good."

Chokecherry tore off another mouthful of berries from the branch, stripping it bare -- and didn't think at all about how he might look: rather like a mouse with its cheeks stuffed for winter. Looking the pale doe over idly as he chewed the mouthful (the very last mouthful he would take, the one that would bind him up and make him miserable for days), he swallowed, tossing his head back -- and then picked up a branch he'd torn off, tossing it gently at her feet. One of the berries burst and made a brief splash of violet against her coat.

"Hi." He grinned, the effect rogueish -- maybe mildly disturbing since his lips and tongue were stained purple. "They're good, aren't they? Delicious over the tongue." Maybe the smile had turned a bit lecherous in that instant -- perhaps the better word was debauched.

"I'm Chokecherry. Friends call me Strangle. Who're you?"

The buck tipped his head at her -- perhaps a nod in greeting, though made a bit jauntier because, well .. he was himself. And he knew exactly what that meant: he knew he was good-looking, knew does would approach him -- he had never had to try. And he'd sampled a good many does.

He stepped out of the berry bramble to stand in front of her; he was maybe a bit slimmer than he'd first appeared, all neat, long lines and brilliantly white (and purple, and pink) coat. "What brings you here? Normally most people don't bother with my berry patch, but," and here he smiled, "this time I don't mind."

He could have not been any less subtle if he'd tried; it would have made other kimeti sigh in disgust. Chokecherry's self-confidence was absolutely blinding (or, well, reeked like a carcass, depending on who waxed poetic about it).

"I can provide that," Chokecherry nodded, and if it would have been a flirt coming from another's lips, here it was simple honesty. If her smile was a little stilted and frozen it was completely lost on him. He eventually stepped out of the berry bramble, pausing a moment to shake himself free of twigs and branches; he had shaggy legs, and beyond the staining juice, they were catch-alls for mud and twigs.

"Come try a few. And then come take a walk with me. Tell me about yourself."

The smile was not quite a leer.

"Always," Chokecherry said, with typical I-haven't-thought-this-through-but-barely-need-to readiness. He kicked up berry-stained heels and followed her, keeping far enough away that she would likely have to keep throwing those smoldering glances over her shoulder. If he was missing the point -- which he would never figure out -- he was missing it by a lot. This probably spoke volumes to Vexed about how shallow the buck apparently was.

As they entered the cave, anyone listening carefully might have heard the small sounds of someone waiting very quietly further in. Vexed slipped out of sight, and a similarly sized and, for that day, decorated doe took her place in the dark. The other doe even crooned in a passable imitation of Vexed's voice, "Well, my handsome buck, will you come to me in my lair?" She kept her white eyes mostly closed, only barely revealing her location.

One white eye opened wider for a moment in unnameable reaction, and narrowed again. After a beat, she supplied, "They keep a body out of the elements, but they are dreadful cold, sometimes. Easily made cozy with a little help." She tilted her head. "Would that fit into our plans?"