Two paths for getting sexy with Whitney. One casual, the other romantic.


Getting started 


(New stuff for Whitney. Requires the farm to not be corrupt, and you not to have been booted from it.)
Lead in

(After a few interactions with Whitney you should unlock this event Once you have done this, these event chains should either replace the normal work events until it is done, or be a separate button called "Help Whitney" or something to that effect.)

As you approach the farm, you hear a voice calling for you. "Hey [PC Name]!" Whitney calls out, waving as she strides over, a little out of breath. "Sorry to rope you into this, but Marble’s busy and Kelt is... well, Kelt. I could use an extra hand watering the crops before the schedule gets messed up again. You up for it?" 

It’s not exactly what you had planned for today, but it doesn’t sound too bad. At least it’s simple work, and Whitney isn’t the worst company. You shrug and motion for her to lead the way. “Oh, thank you. You're a darling." She turns and heads toward the farm's well, her hips swaying with an effortless rhythm. Has she always walked like that? Either way, it's hard to look away. In any case, you don't have too long to stare before you reach the well. Whitney bends forward slightly filling a metal watering can, and then hands it to you before filling the second for herself. 

"Watering isn't exactly technical work, but we have a lot of ground to cover. I'll take the odd rows, you get the even ones. Oh, and if you have never done this before, you water the roots. Where the stem meets the dirt, not the pretty flower parts." You totally knew that, totally. Moving right to work you start pouring, trying to keep pace with Whitney as she covers her own row.

After the first few plants are dealt with, you strike up a conversation with the friendly dog, asking for more details on who all she actually sells food to. 

"Oh, well just about anyone who asks." She moves on to the next row, with you following not long after. "I don't actively supply the demons or anything like that. Some goblins are willing to barter for themselves or their little clans. There are a few traders that pass by now and then, heck even a few harpies find their way here from the mountains. I don't know where most of it winds up after that, but I hear there are some other settlements out there."

Well, if the creatures she deals with are smart enough to barter with her and the farm hasn't been tainted yet, then it's probably fine. Proceeding to the next, obvious question. You ask her how much she usually makes from these exchanges.

Whitney stops watering and bursts out laughing. It takes her an awkwardly long time to get herself back under control. "Oh, hun. No one gets into farming for the money." She wipes a stray tear from her eye, still chuckling.

You shift awkwardly, unsure what to make of that reaction. Eventually, she exhales and waves a hand. "Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to make it weird, it’s just... money’s the last thing on my mind. This farm doesn’t cost much to keep running, and people don’t exactly pay a fortune for food. But I’d be out here doing this even if no one bought a single pepper. It’s just... part of who I am."

You aren't really sure how to respond to that. Luckily for you, it's time to refill your can. You make your way back to the well, and Whitney joins you shortly after. "Whew, hotter than I thought today." She scoops up a handful of water and splashes her face with it. You can't help but notice some of the water then trailing down her chest and towards her groin. The dog woman notices your eyes on her and proceeds to splash your face with water. At first you think you have offended her, but a quick "Think fast!" and second splash eases your worries. 

Aside from the shock of the action, the coldness of the water across your face makes you realize that she had a point. It is very warm right now, and you owe her some payback. You scramble for a counterattack, dunking your hand into the well and flinging a cold handful right at her. It splashes across the front of her overalls, the fabric clinging tightly to her chest.

"Cold!" she yelps, jumping back before retaliating with another splash of her own.

What started as a few splashes quickly escalates into a full-blown water war, both of you dodging and flinging water at each other. Laughter fills the air as the ground around the well turns to mud beneath your feet. After a while of back and forth mischief and then a cease fire, you both actually refill your cans. Before you can head back out, (Marble, Kelt, or Kelly) come by to take over for you, leaving you to dry yourself off and head back to camp.

That was, surprisingly fun. You also got a good look at Whitney in a way that won't leave your mind. Did she always walk so, sensually? She is a nice looking woman and good company... These thoughts fill your mind as you travel back to camp. Could this be the start of something more?


(Once you choose an approach, you are locked into it.)

Option 1. Love. "Whatever you feel, it is something special. Something that you will need to nurture for it to bloom." (This is the romance path, and will be more heavily focused on genuine affection and tender moments.)
Option 2. Sex. "She has been single for 8 years or so. With no one to see to her needs, she has got to be pent up." (This is the fuck buddies path, more focused on outright lewd and sexual needs.)
Option 3. Friendship. "You are probably just over thinking things. She's a good friend, nothing more." (Currently ends the event chain. Could be expanded to have NTR options.)




Romance Event 1. 
The next time you make your way to Whitney’s farm, you find her already outside, kneeling in the dirt with a small pile of seeds beside her. Gone are her usual overalls. This time she’s dressed in a simple, light-colored tank top and a pair of well-worn work shorts, snug around her toned thighs. A pair of sturdy gloves cover her hands, dirt already smudged across the fingers.

At the sound of your footsteps, she glances up with a smirk. "Well, look who finally showed up. Thought you might've run off after last time."

Your mind briefly flashes back to the impromptu water fight, recalling the way her overalls had clung to her figure afterward. You casually ask why the change of clothing.

Whitney snickers, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "About that, those things needed a proper wash anyway. It's gonna take em a while to dry, so this’ll have to do for now. Nothing fancy, but it breathes better in this heat anyway."

You nod, though you’re only half listening. There’s something about seeing her like this—dressed down, fur lightly bleached from the sun, hair loosely tied back—that makes it hard to focus. Your chest feels tight, your heart pounding in a way that feels out of place for something as simple as planting seeds.

"Alright," she continues, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Come over here. I gotta make sure you don’t plant these upside down."

You kneel beside her, and she picks up a seed, rolling it between her gloved fingers. "See this little pointy end? That goes up. Helps the sprout find its way out easier."

You nod along, watching closely as she presses the seed into the soil and covers it with a practiced sweep of her hand. It’s not a complicated task, but the way she moves—smooth, confident, completely in her element—makes it hard to look away. You force yourself to focus, scooping up a seed and mimicking her actions.

The two of you fall into a quiet rhythm, hands brushing against the earth, the sun beating down as row after row of future crops are nestled into place. Yet, despite the peaceful work, you can’t shake the feeling in your chest. It’s different from the simple attraction you’ve felt before. It’s something deeper. Something unsettling in its intensity.

A soft hum from Whitney draws your attention. She’s working a few feet ahead now, dusting dirt from her gloves as she surveys the progress. "Not bad," she says, glancing at you over her shoulder. "Might make a proper farmhand outta you yet."

There’s a warmth in her voice that wasn’t there before—something softer, more familiar. And as much as you try to push the thought away, you can’t help but wonder, is she feeling it too?

For now, you simply focus on your work. Time passes quickly, and before you know it you are out of seeds. Whitney's work looks much more organized than yours does, but all in all you did a pretty good job. Whitney seems to agree as she surveys the freshly planted field. "Ya know, if you ever think of retiring from your hero work, you would fit in great here." Hearing that makes your heart race. That sounds, wonderful. Maybe once the infernal hoards are gone, then maybe... Well, no point musing on something that far away. You dust yourself off and help pull Whitney back to her feet.

You thank her for the kind offer, and ask if she has anything else that needs done now. "Nah, not right now, but thanks. I’m glad to have someone so eager to help." With that you two part ways again.
Romance Event 2.

As you approach the farm, the familiar scent of tilled earth and fresh greenery fills your nostrils. The sun hangs high, casting long shadows over the fields where Whitney is hard at work, a sack of produce slung over her shoulder. Her toned arms flex with each movement, a light sheen of sweat glistening on her sun-kissed skin as she hauls the load into the barn.

She catches sight of you and quirks an eyebrow, brushing a stray lock of golden hair from her face. "What, just here to stand around and gawk?" she teases, though her tone is more amused than sharp. It’s hard to deny she makes for a lovely sight, but you get the message. Without a word, you grab an empty sack from a nearby pile and fall in step beside her, getting to work.

The first few minutes pass in focused silence as you make sure you’re doing things right, adjusting to the rhythm of the labor. Soon enough, the repetition takes over, and the work becomes almost second nature. The steady sound of rustling leaves and shifting sacks fills the barn until Whitney finally breaks the quiet.

"So, [PC name], I appreciate the help and all, but I gotta ask, doesn't your whole ‘champion’ thing take priority? Shouldn't you be out there dealing with, I don’t know, world-ending threats?"

It’s a fair question, and one you’ve considered yourself. You take a moment to answer, explaining that, at least for now, this is where you want to be. The portal that brought you here is currently closed, and while the demons are still out there scheming, they don’t seem to be making any real progress. There’s plenty of time to deal with them when the moment comes. Besides, people need to eat, right? Helping Whitney with the farm may not be the most glorious work, but it’s still meaningful.

"Huh, I guess that makes sense." Whitney nods, shifting another sack into place as the pile of goods steadily grows. "Never really thought of farming as a noble profession. Guess that makes me a hero too, huh?" She lets out a chuckle before shaking her head. "Kidding, of course. For me, it’s just the satisfaction of a hard day's work. Fresh air, honest labor. Way better than the chaos of the city."

She doesn’t have to sell you on it, the work is exhausting, but there’s a deep satisfaction in seeing the barn fill up with neatly stacked produce. By the time you run out of empty sacks, your muscles burn, and your clothes cling to your sweat-dampened skin. Whitney exhales, stretching her shoulders before looking over the completed work with a nod of approval.

"Not bad. Maybe you ain't just a sword-swinger after all." Her lips quirk in something close to a smirk before she gestures toward one of the sacks. "Go on, take a few for yourself. You earned it."

You shake your head. That’s not why you helped, and you tell her as much. Her brow furrows for a second before she shrugs. "Suit yourself." She tugs at her tank top, the fabric now see through from sweat. "I need to get out of these before they stick to me for good." Part of you would love that, the thin fabric accentuating her form, her perky nipples sticking out for you, just begging to be touched...

Tempting as it is to linger, the ache in your muscles reminds you it’s best to quit while you’re ahead. You give her a nod and make your way back toward camp, a sense of quiet satisfaction settling in as you leave the farm behind, for now.
Romance Event 3. 

You take a moment to look over the farm and make a quick realization, some of the fence is in bad shape. A few of the wooden slats have loosened significantly, posts sagging in the dirt, and one section leans precariously far. It wouldn't take much more than a stiff breeze to topple it. Well, best get to fixing.

(If you have carpentry tools "You pull out your tools and get to work" Else "You grab some tools from storage and get to work.") Rather than completely replacing the fence you drive loose nails back into place and prop up the sagging portion of the fence, reseating the posts as needed. It's not the most intensive work, but you are so engaged with the task that  you don’t even notice Whitney approaching until you hear her voice behind you.

"Well, look at you. Didn’t think I’d hired a new farmhand, but here you are."

You glance over your shoulder to find her standing with her hands on her hips, a curious but appreciative look on her face. She is once again dressed in the tank top and shorts, maybe her overalls are still drying. Either way it looks good on her, not that you can imagine anything she couldn't pull off.

"You didn’t have to do this, y'know," she says, stepping closer and giving the fence a once-over. What a silly thing to say, if you didn't fix it, it would have broken worse. You open your mouth to correct her, before realizing what she actually meant. Not wanting to look like an idiot you simply comment that you didn't want her having to do it herself.

She lets out a small huff, but there’s no real frustration in it. If anything, she seems a little touched. "Well, I appreciate it. Not that I can’t handle my own repairs, but it’s nice not having to do everything myself for once. Well, not everything but, you get my point."

With that, she joins in, hammering a few loose nails while you hold the boards in place. It’s steady work, but pleasant—Whitney’s company is easygoing, and the occasional brush of her body against yours is... distracting, to say the least. You do your best to focus, but can feel your heart pound in your chest when she gets closer, leaning in to inspect your work.

Time flies by until Whitney stretches to reach a higher part of the fence, and Her shirt catches on a protruding nail. As she pulls back from the fence you hear a very loud ripping sound, pulling your attention from your own work, and to her now exposed chest. Whitney's eyes go wide as she looks down at the damage.

"Oh, you gotta be kidding me!" She yanks the torn fabric free, inspecting the damage with a mix of irritation and disbelief. The tear is straight down the center, between the neckline and her belly. "This was my good work shirt!" she groans, trying to tug the destroyed shirt closed.

You, meanwhile, are trying not to stare, and failing. You feel blood rushing to your [All Available PC genitals] as you soak in the view of her perfect breasts and now exposed nipples, which rapidly perk up in the open air. 

Whitney narrows her eyes at you, catching your expression. "Oh, don’t even start." She blurts out, seeming embarrassed for what is probably the first time since you have met her. Nothing seemed to bother her before this, is that a good sign? In any case you give a fake cough and resume your work on the fence.

Whitney keeps a faint blush in her cheeks as she turns back to the fence, trying to act as if nothing happened.
For both of your sakes, you play along as well, trying to pretend you didn't just see what you saw. It's hard for you to get it out of your mind, but blissfully soon the work is done.

As you finish hammering in the last few nails, Whitney steps back and nods in approval. "Well, guess I owe you one for this." She keeps a firm grip on her torn top, but makes no other effort to obscure herself as she addresses you.

You tell her that it's no big deal, but this time she isn't going to accept that as an answer. "Nah, nah, none of that. Not this time. You’ve been real helpful lately, and I owe you something. Tell you what, how about dinner? I may not be a master chef, but my home cooking is the next best thing."

Well, with all the work you have been doing, you have been working up quite the appetite, and it's more time to spend with Whitney. Time where you don't have to be working. That sounds good to you. You accept her offer. 

"Great, I'll need some time to make the place presentable, take some time to rest in the meantime, ok? I don't want you looking dead on your feet for this." That sounds like a great idea, it's amazing how much you wear yourself out with all this work. You tell her you will take it easy, and swing by soon. With that you make your way back to your camp, excited for your little date with the dog woman. You just hope that she feels the same way you do.
Romance Event 4. 

As you make your way toward the farmhouse, the warm scent of cooked food drifts through the air, carrying hints of roasted vegetables and freshly baked bread. It’s not a smell you’d usually associate with Whitney, but considering how much time she spends working the land, it makes sense that she’d know her way around a kitchen.

The door swings open before you can knock. "Hey, you're right on time!" Whitney grins, stepping aside to let you in.

The first thing you notice as you step in, is Whitney herself, more specifically her outfit. She is wearing a simple but well fitting blue blouse that complements her frame, the fabric light enough to be comfortable but still modest. The next obvious thing is that the table is already set, with your meal already on a plate across from Whitney's. You take a moment to clean your [Shoes/feet/hooves] on a mat while Whitney closes the door behind you.

She then takes her place at the table, and points to the place across from her."Come on, sit. You’ve earned this." Well, you are here to eat. (If the player is a centaur/other quadruped "You idly push a wooden chair to the side and sit on the floor, not wanting to break her furniture." Else "You take a seat on the wooden chair and take in the sight before you." The inside of Whitney's home is simple, but pleasant. Rough wooden walls, basic but functional furnishings, a clean, but clearly worn down wooden floor... Well, at least the kitchen and dining room look nice, it's hard to see the rest of the house, and going exploring right now would be a very silly thing to do.

The clinking of metal on metal from Whitney's side of the table draws you back to your immediate surroundings, and why you are even here. She's not waiting for you to go first, indeed it seems Whitney worked up quite the appetite herself with the massive bites she is taking. No time like the present then, you take your cutlery and dig in. The meal is rustic but satisfying home-cooked food that speaks of care more than extravagance. Conversation starts light, touching on the day’s work, small observations about the farm, even the occasional joke. But as the plates empty, the air shifts slightly, settling into something quieter and more thoughtful.

Whitney leans back in her chair, tail giving a lazy flick behind her. "Y'know, I don’t get to do this as much as I’d like. Cooking for someone, I mean." She glances toward you, expression relaxed, but there’s something more beneath it. "It's... nice, having company."

You nod, feeling a warmth in your chest that isn't just the food.

She exhales, a small, contented sound, then smirks. "Hope you didn’t just come for the meal, though. That’d hurt my feelings."

You shake your head, and the two of you share a look, something unspoken passing between you before she waves a hand dismissively, as if to brush off the weight of the moment. "Well, good. Guess that means I can invite you over again sometime, huh?"

It’s an easy offer, one that keeps things light, but you can tell there’s more to it than that. You are sure that the next time will be something special. You can feel it with every fiber of your being, she's starting to feel what you feel, she's just not ready to talk about it. You accept her offer, trying your best not to sound too eager about it. In any case you help her clean the table before she ushers you out the door. "See you soon, right?" You simply nod and make your way off into the world, mind racing with anticipation of whatever your next visit will hold.
Romance Event 5.

Whitney is already hard at work when you arrive, back in her usual overalls, sleeves rolled up as she hefts a bundle of hay over her shoulder. Stray pieces cling to her fur, and she exhales sharply, blowing a few strands from her face as she glances your way.

"Bout time you showed up. Thought I was gonna have to do all this myself," she teases, though the smirk she shoots you softens any real bite. While she didn't tell you that there was anything planned for today, farm work never really ends, it just has moments of rest.

You take a moment to prepare yourself before getting to work. The labor is steady, repetitive, and not exactly stimulating, but working side by side makes it easier. Between the occasional bits of small talk and the rustling of hay, there’s a comfortable quiet, a sort of rhythm to it. Well, at least when you aren't being prodded by a poorly placed hay straw, or dealing with the mild rope burn from the thin bands that hold a bale together.

As the task reaches the halfway point, Whitney gives a stretch, arms rising high over her head, tail flicking lazily behind her. "I think we have earned a break, come take a sit." She plops down onto the remaining hay pile, and gestures for you to join her.

That is a very welcome invitation, one you take as you settle in. The hay beneath you is surprisingly comfortable, well, it's better than standing. Hay is not exactly ideal seating, but it's amazing just how fast all this farm work can wear a person out. (If you have high toughness "Not you of course, you are built for the long haul.")

You and Whitney chat for a bit, words slowly becoming less and less frequent. Once there is nothing left to say you simply lean back and rest your eyes for a moment, just a moment... 

You're not sure how much time passes, but when you wake, it’s to the steady rise and fall of breathing beside you. Blinking, you realize that at some point, Whitney had dozed off too. She’s close. Much closer than you expected—her to be. She must have scooted towards you after you passed out. Her head is tilted slightly in your direction, ears twitching faintly in sleep. Stray bits of hay cling to her fur, and with the way she’s curled slightly toward you, it’s impossible to ignore how peaceful she looks.

For a moment, you simply watch, heart beating just a little too fast. It’s rare to see her so still, so unguarded. Normally, she’s all sharp wit and teasing words, but here, now... 

A soft sigh escapes her, and she shifts slightly, her arm brushing against you. Her eyes slowly open, still heavy with sleep, and for a second, she just blinks at you in groggy confusion. Then, realization dawns.

"Huh?" Her voice is low, still thick with drowsiness. She glances between you and the hay, then exhales in amusement.
She stretches, yawning wide before shaking a bit of hay from her ears. "Well. If nothin’ else, I can’t say you’re bad company for a nap."

High praise coming from her. In any case you pull yourself from the hay, Whitney following shortly after. "I can probably handle the rest now that I've had my beauty sleep. You should probably get back to your adventuring stuff." She gives your shoulder a playful punch. "Now go on, get." You do as she says, things are probably fine back at camp anyway, but it doesn't hurt to check.

Romance Event 6.

Another visit to the farm, another visit with Whitney. You find her standing by an old wooden water trough, sleeves rolled up, a bucket of soapy water in one hand and a scrubbing brush in the other. Her tank top is back—though now it bears obvious stitches where it once tore—and she’s paired it with the same worn shorts that barely cling to her hips. She’s wet already, streaks of water splashed along her fur and clothes, though she doesn’t seem to mind.

"There you are," she calls, brushing a lock of damp hair from her face with the back of her arm. "Hoped I could rope you into helping me get these critters cleaned up." So now she's asking you to wash the animals with her. Well, at least it's not more heavy lifting.

The first few minutes are straightforward enough. The livestock are surprisingly cooperative today, and between you and Whitney, the first couple of beasts are scrubbed down with relative ease. The real focus of your attention however, is not the work. Your focus is on Whitney, as it has been the past few visits. Not that you are slacking in your work either, but it's hard to keep your eyes on whatever beast is in front of you, when you have this sexy dog woman in such revealing clothing right next to you.

At some point, your hands brush while reaching for the same bucket. It's brief, inconsequential by action, but loaded with unspoken tension. Whitney clears her throat and looks away, focusing hard on scrubbing the side of a heifer that clearly doesn’t need the extra attention.

"You’re pretty good at this," she says eventually. Her voice is light, casual --but there’s a current underneath, something almost shy. "Maybe you’ve got a knack for farm life. Or maybe you’re just showin’ off for me."

Heh, maybe you are, or maybe you are just that good. Either way it doesn't take long to finish with the rest of the animals. As the last of the livestock trot back to their usual place, Whitney wipes her brow with the back of her hand, and lets out a satisfied sigh. "Y’know," she says, glancing over at you, "Much as I love farm work, I used to hate doing this stuff alone. The cleaning, the fixing, the torn clothes... Most days just washing one of these critters can take forever, or cause some bruising if they really don't want to get clean. But with you here? You make it fun again."

You just smile at her and help her clean up. Not long later you head back to camp, doing what you can to dry yourself as you go.

Romance event 7. 

You arrive at the sight of a wooden ladder resting against the farm house, the scent of fresh paint filling the area. Whitney is perched a few rungs up, her back to you, focused intently on her work. Her tail gives a small wag as she hears you approach, though she doesn’t turn around.

"Knew you’d show up. Figured if I'm gettin guests I should make the place presentable."

She’s wearing her patched tank top again—though it’s already dotted with paint—and a pair of old work pants rolled up just below the knee. There's a streak of off-white along one cheek and another across her forearm. The thought that she looks good covered in white briefly enters your mind, before you remember that you are here to help, not just stare.

You grab a second brush from the open bucket nearby and start painting the lower parts of the house.
The work is steady, rhythmic. You two keep a fairly even pace as you coat the front of the house with fresh paint.

"Ain’t bad, right? She’s an old house, but she cleans up nice." Whitney wipes her hands on a rag and leans against the wall, head tilted just enough to glance over at you. Aside from the fact that she's obviously also referring to herself, it does look nice. Amazing how much difference something as simple as some paint can make.

"You know," she says, quieter this time, "when I started all this, I didn’t think much about how it looked. The house, the barn... me. Heh, I don't rightly know what has gotten into me lately. I always took some pride in my work, but I'd never cared what anyone else thought of it..." It's clear she wants to say more, but for some reason isn't. You just pat her on the shoulder and remind her that you still have several more walls to paint.

"Yeah, I suppose we do. Let's get to it." The rest of your time is spent with light conversation and painting. You feel like you are on the verge of some kind of breakthrough with her, just a little more time...

Romance Event 8.

You once again make your way to the farm, but do not see Whitney anywhere. You look around but for a while it seems like she has simply disappeared, until you hear a noise coming from the barn. It briefly sounds like Whitney is trying to fight something off. You pull the doors to the barn open, and are relieved to see she's just struggling to pull something out of a pile of other stuff, and kicking up a lot of dust in the process.

"Hey [pcname] could you give me a hand with this?" Does she even have to ask? (If the player has low strength. "You are hardly a bastion of strength yourself, but with considerable effort from both of you, you manage to pull the item free." If medium strength. "With both of you pulling the item in question comes free without too much issue." If the player has high strength. "You gesture for her to back up, grab the offending item, and free it from the pile with one great yank.") Upon inspecting the thing you just pulled free you quickly realize that it's an old chest, and seems to have something inside of it. It's absolutely caked in dust, but still clearly sealed. Whitney quickly snatches the freed chest away from you and sets it to the side. "Ahem, thanks for the help." 

You just nod, waiting for her to continue. "Right, well this place is a mess, with us makin everything else look nice, I figured it was time to wrangle this chaos into somethin more manageable. I would appreciate some help with that, but I'm sure you know that by now." Her words were clearly meant to be teasing, but there's something a bit different about it this time. Maybe something about her body language, or the look in her eyes, but whatever it is, there's a hint of sadness to her. Something that tells you that she really needs you to say yes this time.

You simply accept and ask her how you two are going to handle this. "Right, so first we need to get all this out, then we dust, wash, and ya know, get rid of all the spiders and other critters that have made this place home. After that I... I'll need to make some decisions. Ahem, alright, lets get to it." She doesn't give you time to consider her odd behavior, simply grabbing more stuff from the pile and pulling. As you are clearing there are a few items that she takes particular care not to damage while extracting them from the pile.

Eventually the barn is emptied of everything but the foods you previously brought into it. Now it's time for the real cleaning. You and Whitney divide the barn into sections, and get to work. First is clearing out the cobwebs, then dusting, then cleaning with water and a rag. That last part is what takes the most time, it has been years since this barn was last cleaned, and you spend more time having to empty the dirty water from your bucket than you do actually scrubbing. (If the player has at least 20 intelligence "After a bit of this you notice something, more specifically the lack of something. Whitney seems to have disappeared again. She's not the type to just bail on someone mid job unless it's urgent. You briefly consider stopping to go look for her when a very strange sound catches your attention. A soft noise from just outside the barn. You peer through a hole in the side to see what is going on, and find where the dog woman ran off to, as well as why. With her hand crammed down her shorts, fingers desperately moving from side to side, is Whitney. You can faintly here her talking to herself as she struggles against her own body. "Dang it, why do I feel like this. Stupid adventurers, we've gone down this road before, why... would he forgive me if he knew..." She abruptly grabs the fingering hand with her other, and yanks it back out of her shorts. "What is wrong with me? I... back to cleaning now."
He? Does she mean... well either way you get back to your spot and resume cleaning. Whitney simply returns to her own spot and tries to pretend nothing happened, unaware of what you saw." If the player has less intelligence than that, it skips to the next part.

A while later you two are finished with the cleaning, now it's time to put things back, or get rid of them. Most of the old stuff Whitney has no problem getting rid of, but she shows great hesitation with the last batch. Before you can ask why Whitney speaks again. "These... these were my husband's. I should have left them when I left the city, but I couldn't... I couldn't just let him go. I always hoped that he would come back, that he would find me again some how, that it would all have been a bad dream. I... Can you decide for me, please?"

Keep them. "There's nothing wrong with keeping some mementoes." (plays scene "Mementoes")
Get rid of them. "These are just things, her husband is long gone, she needs to move on." (Plays scene "Fresh start")

Mementoes

You tell Whitney that if they still have value to her, she should keep them. They don't even take up that much space, and she can always change her mind later. Whitney pulls you into a very warm hug before speaking again. "You're right, thanks. Lets get this stuff put away." You put the precious memories away without much issue, as for the pile of trash, Whitney will either sell it off or use it for scrap. Once the work is all done Whitney once again addresses you. "I was hoping you would be interested in dinner again. Last time was really nice..." She struggles to look you in the eyes as she says this, her head turned slightly to the side in embarrassment. How could you possibly refuse? As you agree she makes one more request of you. "Be well rested, and wear something nice ok?" You are sure she will be happy no matter what you wear, but she obviously has something special planned if she's making that kind of request. You again agree, and then it's time for you to go.

Fresh start.

You tell Whitney that it would be best for her to get rid of the old stuff. Clinging to the past isn't healthy. "You're right. I just... I will need to say goodby. Let's get the other stuff put back first." It doesn't take very long to actually put things back in their place, but as you are putting things back in the barn, Whitney has been taking the other stuff and putting it into one big pile. Once you are both done she gestures for you to stand next to her, which you do. After a long while of silence Whitney pulls a box of matches from her pocket, strikes one, and tosses it onto the pile, which catches fire almost instantly. "Goodbye." That's all she says. Simply watching the pile burn. It doesn't take very long for all the dry old stuff to burn away to ash. As the last few embers die down she leans against you. "I uhh. I don't have a witty comment for this. Could you join me for dinner soon--and please wear something nice." She doesn't wait for your answer before walking off towards the farm house. Despite the somber tone, you feel like this was for the best.

Romance Event 9. 

It's time for dinner. You notice that Whitney has the curtains down, keeping you from seeing inside the farmhouse as you approach. It's not that important, but you idly wonder if she is trying to hide some sort of surprise. Well, whatever it is you're sure you will find out soon. You make your way up to the door and knock. You hear some things being moved around inside before the door opens, and what you see floors you. Whitney is wearing an outfit you haven't seen before, one that fits her very well-- a dark blue dress that clings to her form. It has what look to be small blue gems around the collar, decorative lacing around her belly, and extra fluff around the hem which rests just above her ankles. This of course draws your eyes to her choice of footwear, black stiletto heels. You had no idea Whitney owned anything like this, or that she could pull it off so well. Sure she's always been good looking, but it would have been hard to imagine the rugged country girl in anything so refined, if you hadn't seen it for yourself. Your eyes trail back up towards her face, briefly lingering on what little of her breasts the dress leaves exposed.  

As you have been looking her over, she has been doing the same to you. (If the player is nude ("You really wore nothing? You thought that's what I meant by something nice..." She mumbles faintly under her breath "Not wrong about that either." She then clears her throat.) if fetish or overly sexy outfit. ("Eager thing aren't you. Hope you weren't expecting me to wear something matching.") If wearing armor. ("You come looking for a fight? Relax, I don't bite, much.") If wearing normal clothing or otherwise clothed but next sexy. ("Nice outfit. Come on in.") If wearing fancy clothing like the ballroom dress or suit cloths.("You clean up nice. Glad you listened to my suggestion."))

Once she is finished with her feedback she steps to the side and lets you in. You again clean your [feet/shoes] on a mat as you take in th room. It looks different than before, not radically so, but she has clearly put in more effort this time. The floors have clearly been fixed up recently, not wholly new, but covered with a fresh coat of varnish, making them look much better. The old wooden furnishings have likewise been cleaned, resurfaced, or otherwise repaired. The table dinner table is covered in a new white cloth, with a golden candle holder in the center of it illuminating the dining room. As you are taking in the view a mouthwatering scent fills your [nose/scent based sensory organs], something meaty and savory emanating from the oven.  

"You were a little bit earlier than I expected, take a seat, the food will be ready soon." You do as instructed, and Whitney takes the seat across from you, her dress shining beautifully in the candle light. "So... How has adventuring been?" You can tell that's not what is really on her mind, but it's as good an icebreaker as any. You fill her in on the recent goings on before a ding calls her attention back to the oven. "That'll be dinner." She rises from her chair grabs a cloth from nearby, and opens up the oven. She bends over way further than is necessary as she reaches into the oven, wiggling her butt and tail as she pulls out a large glass pan with a very large bird of some kind cooked in a sweet and salty smelling juice. She sets the pan on the counter and takes her seat again. "It'll need to cool for a little bit before we can dig in. Much as I love cookin I don't much care for the waitin." 

"Ya know," she begins after a quiet moment, her eyes fixed on the candlelight flickering between you, "I haven’t done anything like this in... years." Her voice is low—not quite shy, but no longer teasing either. "Not just the food. The dress. The... care." She fidgets with her fork, ears twitching. "I wouldn’t do this for just anyone."

As flattering as that is, you can't help but wonder--surely others have tried? You ask, as gently as you can.

Whitney exhales through her nose, before answering. "Most folks that come by are just here to trade. And the ones who want more than that..." She grimaces. "Let’s just say a minotaur’s idea of asking someone out is slappin’ their dick on the table. Not exactly my type."
She glances up at you, something vulnerable behind her smirk. "Not like... this." She doesn’t finish the thought. Instead, she stands, turns back to the counter, and starts carving the bird with practiced hands. "The last time I wore this dress... it was with my husband. The night he proposed. Found it again while we were cleaning. That’s what was in the chest."

Before you can respond, she sets a full plate in front of you.
"Eat up," she says, and plops back down across from you.
You take a bite. The bird is incredible—sweet and savory with just a hint of char around the edges. Whatever Whitney might say about not being fancy, this is probably the best thing you've eaten in ages.
Then she sets down her fork with a sigh, heavy and deliberate.

"No point draggin’ this out." She meets your eyes. "I like you, [pcname]. Maybe more than like you. I don’t know how you did it—or why—but when I look at you, my heart just..." She shakes her head, laughing softly under her breath. "You've been such a good help to me. Always around, never asking much, always patient. I..." She hesitates, breath catching. "Do you... feel the same?"