Arms crossed under her bared bosom, frown present, she regarded her master defiantly. "I'd rather not have my ass freezing." She'd not given a proper answer– one that would say how much she /loved/ the way Emilie looked.
Rebellion felt like an accessory tailored for her alone.
"And might there be a reason I shouldn't? Do you not prefer to ogle? To be bare before the very owner of yours?"
Cheeky as ever, and with genuine confidence about her tongue. It was no secret, then, that she resonated with the rebel edge such attire encouraged.