That's the answer she expected to get, as much as the image of Erin bent over the bar... intrigues, her. The hum becomes one of acknowledgement, though she neither makes any move to encourage Erin to her feet nor stops groping, squeezing. Not just yet. "Hm. We'll see. Never have been a whiskey girl."

Her teeth catch at Erin's throat, unable to truly scrape skin with that damn aura still in the way, for now, but sharp all the same. Her other hand slips between her legs to drag claws along her inner thigh, as Daisy breathes in deep.

"Besides. Like smelling you." Another nip. "Now get up."