"Of course, but it would have been impolite to mention it. I can smell quite a lot of sex around here, and expect to smell more before the night is over," Ravage says delicately, although she's grinning in a way that's very friendly but not particularly polite.

"Fortunately, it is a smell that I enjoy. There are some organic scents that hurt almost as much as bright lights in my optics hurt, but those are all smells of sickness and rot. Sex is a healthy scent, and a good one, unless there is something dreadfully wrong. Humans smell different from us, because your secretions are different from ours, but we have pheromonal scents as well as you. Most of us don't notice them, but I can't not."

Ravage would probably not like strawberry shampoo, but she's never smelled it. She holds out her wrist to Hunter. "I made this perfume."

It is very odd, probably, because there are notes of ozone and gasoline that are unavoidable; they come from Ravage herself, not the perfume--her current alt-mode is a car, and she produces a strong electromagnetic field. But the scent itself is layers and layers of night blooming white tropical flowers over some kind of incense, and then at the bottom, leather, and some kind of heavy indolic scent.

It's very feminine and not at all demure.