A scent aflame with rage, swirling in the red haze of hatred: dragon's blood spiked with black pepper, clove, and cinnamon.
I'm expecting this one to go south fast, as none of these things smell good on me except for clove.
Vial: Mmm. Baked goods. Mmmm. Well, no, not actually. Maybe cinnamon syrup? Wait, better! Like that cinnamon-scented blow-to-heat sex lotion they have the sample packs of at Planned Parenthood. (venturing into the land of TMI here.) Or maybe like a fresh package of red hot candies. Yes! That's it. Anyway, it's giving me a sugar jones.
Wet: red hot candies. cinnamon Swedish fish. suuuuuuuuuuugar joooooooooones.
Drydown: fading... fading... fading... if I stick my nose down my shirt, I smell like I might have dropped a Swedish fish into my bra.
Dry: Must. Have. Swedish. Fish.