Knock Three Times [Closed] - Printable Version
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Knock Three Times [Closed] - megs - 12-06-2015
![[Image: knock.png]](https://alonimi.net/misc/images/graphics/knock.png)
Megs & Tinny
A Dean Gray AU
RE: Knock Three Times [Closed] - megs - 12-06-2015
He had knocked over the broom, this morning, when he’d opened the pantry to retrieve some dried herbs. Grayson picked it up immediately, as to avoid the implied bad luck that came with leaving a fallen broom to rest. He did not, however, consider the implications of the broom falling over in the first place.
Grayson did not receive company; it was just an accident.
Just because he practiced witchcraft did not mean that every random happenstance need be attributed to some old superstition.
He had patrons, certainly, and if one really wanted to push the issue he supposed the could be referred to as guests, but they were temporary and expected since his comfortable home also doubled as a storefront. Therefore, he tucked the broom handle more securely into the nook beside the pantry, and went about his business, which was preparing tea and charms and sachets for exhausted valedictorians or anxious housewives, or desperate entrepreneurs.
There was a noticeable chill in the air, the kind that rode the forefront of an oncoming winter. It wasn’t enough to make Grayson close his windows, because he didn’t want to lose the breeze that was imperative for pushing negative energy conveniently out his back door. So to compensate for the crisp early morning he had pulled a gray sweater, that was threatening to fall apart at any moment, over his t-shirt. It was not the most professional looking outfit when paired with worn blue jeans, but no one really seemed to notice. It certainly did not stop aforementioned valedictorians and housewives from hitting on him.
Well, he assumed they were hitting on his based on how little he knew about flirting. Coy looking smiles, and half-lidded gazes in an expression that seemed out of place when they were asking for herbal teas or crystal amulets. Grayson’s responses to their efforts had little variation, he would adjust his glasses or ruffle his unruly mop of curly, black hair as he shuffled, nervously, but he would always thank them for their patronage.
At the moment his home was empty, which was... unusual given the time of day.
He left the kitchen and walked down the hallway to the garden, fingertips drawing over the various plants that occupied his home in excess; hydrangeas for purification, chrysanthemums for protection, and bluebells for luck. All pulled from his garden, which he discovered was also unusually unoccupied when he poked his head out the back door. His brow furrowed as he moved back into the house, closing the door. The fingers of his left hand fidgeted with the band of golden calcite strung around his right wrist as he returned to the front of the house to close that door as well, there was a cheerful-looking sign pinned to the knocker that would reassure any passing visitors that he was still open for business.
Perhaps he would use this free time to check the e-mails he had been avoiding from the Lieutenant at the local police station.
RE: Knock Three Times [Closed] - Tindome - 12-06-2015
Nadine was hungover. Which only really meant that she was breathing.
Smoking, technically. Same thing.
Circumstances had forced her into a practical pair of shoes – or as practical as a pair of pop-art high tops could be. It had worked out, since half the roads didn't bother having sidewalks and heels didn't do great off pavement. Bracelets clattered as she took her cigarette from between her lips, adjusted tortoiseshell glasses as she squinted toward the horizon.
Ugh. The sun. What a fucker that was.
She dropped her cigarette butt and ground it out under her heel, jamming her hands into the pocket of her hoodie dress. It was not significantly warmer than the alternative, but it also wasn't quite cold enough to bother her yet.
At some point this year, she was going to need to start wearing long pants instead of tall socks.
Nice house. Cute flowers. Basil. Weird spot for basil. Damn, she wanted pizza.
She stepped up onto the porch to better see the little sign on the knocker. She scraped thoughtfully at her tongue with her teeth, made a face before digging through her pocket for some gum. Between cigarettes and a lot of drinking, her mouth was a nightmare zone. She popped a stick in her mouth and cracked it between her molars.
Did she actually have to use the knocker? Did it not count if she just used her knuckles? She was tempted to test it, but she also wanted to hurry up and get to getting rid of the throbbing behind her eyes.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Smoking, technically. Same thing.
Circumstances had forced her into a practical pair of shoes – or as practical as a pair of pop-art high tops could be. It had worked out, since half the roads didn't bother having sidewalks and heels didn't do great off pavement. Bracelets clattered as she took her cigarette from between her lips, adjusted tortoiseshell glasses as she squinted toward the horizon.
Ugh. The sun. What a fucker that was.
She dropped her cigarette butt and ground it out under her heel, jamming her hands into the pocket of her hoodie dress. It was not significantly warmer than the alternative, but it also wasn't quite cold enough to bother her yet.
At some point this year, she was going to need to start wearing long pants instead of tall socks.
Nice house. Cute flowers. Basil. Weird spot for basil. Damn, she wanted pizza.
She stepped up onto the porch to better see the little sign on the knocker. She scraped thoughtfully at her tongue with her teeth, made a face before digging through her pocket for some gum. Between cigarettes and a lot of drinking, her mouth was a nightmare zone. She popped a stick in her mouth and cracked it between her molars.
Did she actually have to use the knocker? Did it not count if she just used her knuckles? She was tempted to test it, but she also wanted to hurry up and get to getting rid of the throbbing behind her eyes.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
RE: Knock Three Times [Closed] - megs - 12-14-2015
There was a noise, a very distracting noise that was making it very difficult for him to continue focusing on work. Not his work, technically. The work of the Valesport Police Department's Paranormal Forensic Unit, but here he was looking at awful pictures.
They were awful in both content and composition. They needed a better photographer.
Oh. Right, the knocking that he had forgotten about. Somehow. He looked down at the time nestled in the corner of his computer screen, the store was closed which should have been duly noted on the posting on his front door.
His brow knitted as he tried to think back on the number of knocks.
Three. Which mean that it was someone he knew. Or a friend or family member of someone he knew. Or a friend of family member of someone they knew because it turned out his friends and family members were awful at keeping things to themselves.
He briefly pondered on the broom.
He looked at the time again, another minute had passed since he realized he'd sort of been ignoring the visitor on his porch.
Which was very rude. Shit.
He pushed up his glasses, needlessly adjusting the crystals around his wrist as he finally proceeded down the stairs. He opened the door quickly, but only far enough to peer around it, pushing back his mess of curls as he did so, which did nothing to hide the fact that he'd taken the stairs two at a time.
She was not what he was expecting. Whoever she was. Immediately noticeable that she was not like his usual patrons. She wore a halo of smoke and wild curls in a backdrop if the setting sun. Small, but not fragile. At least he hoped she wasn't with all the negative energy she was carrying around with her.
"Can I help you?" he asked, opening the door fully and standing in the opening. Half-formed and hazy memories of his youngest sister mentioning that she would try to find him a new shop assistant before she left for college echoed briefly. "Or did Angie send you?"
RE: Knock Three Times [Closed] - Tindome - 12-15-2015
She resisted the temptation to light up another cigarette as she waited, but only barely. It was entirely possible that she actually had the wrong house. She didn't think so, though.
Nadine tilted her head to the side as the door opened, doing her best to get a good look at him. A better look, once he'd given her a once-over and opened the door properly.
yes hello hi who the fuck are you why are you hot let's be friends
'Hedge witch' did not generally bring to mind scruffy men in soft sweaters with bedroom hair. Possibly she did have the wrong house. Or else he was married. Neither of those things were going to deter her.
"Hey," she said, sticking her hands in her pockets and giving her best shy smile. "Yeah," she said, even though she was absolutely sure that the person she'd spoken to at the bar had not been named Angie. Her gum was still positioned on her back molars, keeping her chewing quiet so that she could be confused for someone polite. "I mean, sort of both? Kinda." She bit her lip, a fidgety rock on her heels. "She said you might be able to help me out with something? And maybe I could help you out. Like a trade."
Guessing, grasping at straws. Expecting someone but didn't know who, either he expected someone who wanted something or he expected someone to help him out. Covering all her bases. Her hand left her pocket to push her glasses higher on the crook of her nose, rising up on her toes. She kept her eyes soft, green and wide and a little bit helpless.
"Can I come in?"
Nadine tilted her head to the side as the door opened, doing her best to get a good look at him. A better look, once he'd given her a once-over and opened the door properly.
yes hello hi who the fuck are you why are you hot let's be friends
'Hedge witch' did not generally bring to mind scruffy men in soft sweaters with bedroom hair. Possibly she did have the wrong house. Or else he was married. Neither of those things were going to deter her.
"Hey," she said, sticking her hands in her pockets and giving her best shy smile. "Yeah," she said, even though she was absolutely sure that the person she'd spoken to at the bar had not been named Angie. Her gum was still positioned on her back molars, keeping her chewing quiet so that she could be confused for someone polite. "I mean, sort of both? Kinda." She bit her lip, a fidgety rock on her heels. "She said you might be able to help me out with something? And maybe I could help you out. Like a trade."
Guessing, grasping at straws. Expecting someone but didn't know who, either he expected someone who wanted something or he expected someone to help him out. Covering all her bases. Her hand left her pocket to push her glasses higher on the crook of her nose, rising up on her toes. She kept her eyes soft, green and wide and a little bit helpless.
"Can I come in?"
RE: Knock Three Times [Closed] - megs - 12-16-2015
He did not greet her in return. He observed, mostly, from the space that separated the interior from the porch. She spoke, he listened, looking her up and down as he did so. He was not positive what she was wearing could be called an outfit, but he supposed he had seen worse. She was fully dressed, but he still felt like she could have been wearing more clothing. It did not take him long to decide that Angie did not send this woman.
Girl?
He admittedly could not determine just from looking at her. He should probably stop looking at her. There was definitely a point in which observant turned into creepy.
Regardless of who had actually pointed her in his direction, she claimed to be in need of something and a reason had not been presented as to why he could not help. A trade was an interesting way to describe the potential transaction. He mimicked her motion, thoughtlessly, pushing at his own glasses, gray eyes flickering from her face to a space above her shoulder.
"Sure," he answered, he did not sound like he was entirely sure, but he moved aside and swung the door open in the process. He could only hope that whatever that… thing was, that it decided to stay on the porch. "You need tea," he said as she stepped inside, and it was not a question. "I'll make some," he continued as he slipped past her in the space of the hallway, leading her to the kitchen within.
RE: Knock Three Times [Closed] - Tindome - 12-20-2015
Gray eyes raking over her set her stomach to an anxious twist, though she wasn't entirely sure why. A potential miscalculation, because so much about him seemed soft as his sweater. Not the way he looked at her, though. Not hard, exactly, just... distant. Clinical, maybe. Like a problem.
Either he didn't believe her, or Angie had been a bad name to attach herself to.
As he moved out of the way she spared a glance over her shoulder, following that brief moment of distraction. As far as she could tell, there was nothing there. Maybe there'd been something across the street to catch his attention? Or she might have imagined it, the way he'd looked behind her.
She accepted his reluctant invitation, but as soon as she was inside he was shutting the door behind her and moving past her. "O... kay?" She might have told him that she didn't care for tea, but it didn't sound like an offer so much as an order. Which really ought to have been irritating. "That sounds good," she said anyway. "Thanks."
She followed him, hands still in her pockets, eyes skimming over the house as she walked. It wasn't a small house, but it all felt very... cozy. In a way that made her feel faintly uncomfortable. Her head was still throbbing, and being inside helped a little, but it was still all very bright. Was it normal for a house to have this much sunlight? It smelled like potpourri, and that wasn't helping, either.
"So does everyone need tea?" she couldn't help asking. "Or do I just have, like, a thirsty aura."
Either he didn't believe her, or Angie had been a bad name to attach herself to.
As he moved out of the way she spared a glance over her shoulder, following that brief moment of distraction. As far as she could tell, there was nothing there. Maybe there'd been something across the street to catch his attention? Or she might have imagined it, the way he'd looked behind her.
She accepted his reluctant invitation, but as soon as she was inside he was shutting the door behind her and moving past her. "O... kay?" She might have told him that she didn't care for tea, but it didn't sound like an offer so much as an order. Which really ought to have been irritating. "That sounds good," she said anyway. "Thanks."
She followed him, hands still in her pockets, eyes skimming over the house as she walked. It wasn't a small house, but it all felt very... cozy. In a way that made her feel faintly uncomfortable. Her head was still throbbing, and being inside helped a little, but it was still all very bright. Was it normal for a house to have this much sunlight? It smelled like potpourri, and that wasn't helping, either.
"So does everyone need tea?" she couldn't help asking. "Or do I just have, like, a thirsty aura."
RE: Knock Three Times [Closed] - megs - 01-02-2016
She followed despite her vocalized hesitation, so Grayson figured that whatever she wanted was important enough for her to play nice. Which meant nothing overall, she could still be in the market for a curse or a hex, or something else he did not deal in; accepting an unwanted beverage did not vouch for good intentions. As the entered the kitchen, he gestured to the chairs situated at the island, implying that she should pick a seat as he crossed the other side of the counter. Wordlessly, he opened a cabinet, rifled through it, plucking jars without labels from within before moving on to another. He assembled ingredients on the counter in a very deliberate order, perhaps made obvious by his arranging the containers by size.
He laughed as he reached for his teapot, smiling curling as he moved to the sink for water. "No, not thirsty. Hungover," he corrected, setting the full pot in the stove and clicking the burner on. How he could determine her post-drinking state was unclear; perhaps her aura was a sickly green and brown color, or perhaps he could smell the alcohol on her, despite the minty gum.
Oh, peppermint, that would be good.
The kitchen's large window had herbs on the sill in bunches that were much too big for the pots. He approached one, pulling a few spearheaded leaves from the stem, the distinct aroma drifting about almost instantly.
"So," he started, back at the counter, and assembling herbs and such into a mug. "There is something you need? How can I help?"
RE: Knock Three Times [Closed] - Tindome - 01-03-2016
She pulled herself up onto one of the offered chairs, legs dangling above the ground as she tried to make herself comfortable. Though not too comfortable. A normal amount of comfortable, for someone who did not regularly make herself comfortable in the homes of other men.
Nadine did not really know what a normal amount of comfortable was.
She propped her elbows on the counter, leaning forward with her chin on her palms and her fingers curled against her cheeks, watching as he worked. The forward lean did interesting things to her neckline, but in this instance it wasn't even deliberate; just a genuine lack of self-consciousness regarding the cut of her dress, and a distinct lack of ladylike care. As he laughed her mouth split in a grin. It was a good laugh. She was glad he wasn't stingy with it. "So, like… the opposite of thirsty." She didn't even mind that he'd seen through her.
It was all so charmingly domestic, arranging herbs and putting a kettle on. In large doses she thought that it would probably drive her crazy, but for now it was a glimpse into another life. Not one that she particularly wanted – but it was cute, anyway.
"Hmm." Her arms collapsed to cross over one another on the counter, and she rested her head on them as she watched his hands. "Baby repellent," she said finally. "Prior solutions have been found wanting. I like my hormones the way they are, and copper's a whole… ordeal." Her eyes flitted towards his face through her lashes. "Got anything better?"
Nadine did not really know what a normal amount of comfortable was.
She propped her elbows on the counter, leaning forward with her chin on her palms and her fingers curled against her cheeks, watching as he worked. The forward lean did interesting things to her neckline, but in this instance it wasn't even deliberate; just a genuine lack of self-consciousness regarding the cut of her dress, and a distinct lack of ladylike care. As he laughed her mouth split in a grin. It was a good laugh. She was glad he wasn't stingy with it. "So, like… the opposite of thirsty." She didn't even mind that he'd seen through her.
It was all so charmingly domestic, arranging herbs and putting a kettle on. In large doses she thought that it would probably drive her crazy, but for now it was a glimpse into another life. Not one that she particularly wanted – but it was cute, anyway.
"Hmm." Her arms collapsed to cross over one another on the counter, and she rested her head on them as she watched his hands. "Baby repellent," she said finally. "Prior solutions have been found wanting. I like my hormones the way they are, and copper's a whole… ordeal." Her eyes flitted towards his face through her lashes. "Got anything better?"
RE: Knock Three Times [Closed] - megs - 01-08-2016
Grayson went about his business, unaware of the debate in perceived comfortableness that was happening at his back. He retrieved the kettle before it whistled at him, a generous amount of steam puffing upwards in little clouds from the spout. He poured water over the herbal mixture he had put together, the word tea having been somewhat misleading since it was mostly herbal. The scent of peppermint was renewed accompanied by ginger and a mix of floral scents. Another chuckle. "Yeah, basically," he agreed, casually, but did nothing to continue the banter.
He strained the liquid from the muddling glass into a much nicer mug, reaching across the counter to drizzle it with honey before he turned to give it to her. He paused, partway from one counter to the next, mug poised just above the polished granite as he noticed her posture. Mostly by accident the curve of her neck was brought to his attention; haphazard curls framing her face in her hands.
Grayson blinked, once, twice, before realizing he was staring. The mug clinked against the counter-top as he set in down in front of her too quickly, and turned to shove everything back into cabinets. That was bad, very bad, and rude. So, so rude. He mentally scolded himself as items disappeared back into their respective places. He didn't know this woman, (girl?) and she certainly had not come to him to be ogled.
Looking at her over his shoulder, the furrow of his brow was visible, but not his sudden frown. She was very knowledgeable, sounding as if she had done a bit of research before coming to see him. Impressive, but ultimate unchanging to the situation.
Definitely not sentby Angie.
"I'm sorry," he said, closing the cabinet and turning to face her once more. The way he adjusted the neckline of his sweater could have been described as nervous. "I'm not allowed to give reproductive charms to minors. Like, legally. Without parental consent."
RE: Knock Three Times [Closed] - Tindome - 01-14-2016
That smelled…
… like potpourri.
Nadine tried to think of something more appetizing, but it was too late: the mental comparison was there. It didn't smell like black tea, that smell she associated with tannins and cat piss, but even herbal teas had an inherent suspicion about them. Not alcohol. Not coffee. Not worth it.
But she'd had worse with less kind intent, and maybe it really would make her pulse stop pressing against the backs of her eyes.
She did not miss that moment of… appreciation? Surprise? There really wasn't anything lascivious in it, his eyes did not wander or indicate anything untoward. Not that she'd know if from the way he acted, like he'd been caught doing something he'd shouldn't have. Maybe he had. She didn't know yet why he shouldn't have. But that wasn't the important thing. The important thing was stillness and softness and gray eyes and the undeniable indication of interest.
The curl of her mouth betrayed her pleasure as she claimed the unwanted tea, fingers curling around the mug as she brought it closer so that she could warm her hands around it. It always felt so cozy, holding a mug between two hands, regardless of the contents. The smell was not any more pleasant, but the warmth was nice.
When he spoke, she snorted, a short bark of surprised sound that gave way to an equally unladylike cackle. "What!" Her continued giggling still fell on the low-pitched and devious side, a Cheshire grin as she leaned forward over her mug. "You're serious. You can tell I'm hungover, but not how old I am?" He couldn't really have thought she was underage, looking at her like he had. Could he have?
Maybe that was why he'd looked away.
"How old do you think I am?" she pressed, rather than giving him the truth.
… like potpourri.
Nadine tried to think of something more appetizing, but it was too late: the mental comparison was there. It didn't smell like black tea, that smell she associated with tannins and cat piss, but even herbal teas had an inherent suspicion about them. Not alcohol. Not coffee. Not worth it.
But she'd had worse with less kind intent, and maybe it really would make her pulse stop pressing against the backs of her eyes.
She did not miss that moment of… appreciation? Surprise? There really wasn't anything lascivious in it, his eyes did not wander or indicate anything untoward. Not that she'd know if from the way he acted, like he'd been caught doing something he'd shouldn't have. Maybe he had. She didn't know yet why he shouldn't have. But that wasn't the important thing. The important thing was stillness and softness and gray eyes and the undeniable indication of interest.
The curl of her mouth betrayed her pleasure as she claimed the unwanted tea, fingers curling around the mug as she brought it closer so that she could warm her hands around it. It always felt so cozy, holding a mug between two hands, regardless of the contents. The smell was not any more pleasant, but the warmth was nice.
When he spoke, she snorted, a short bark of surprised sound that gave way to an equally unladylike cackle. "What!" Her continued giggling still fell on the low-pitched and devious side, a Cheshire grin as she leaned forward over her mug. "You're serious. You can tell I'm hungover, but not how old I am?" He couldn't really have thought she was underage, looking at her like he had. Could he have?
Maybe that was why he'd looked away.
"How old do you think I am?" she pressed, rather than giving him the truth.
RE: Knock Three Times [Closed] - megs - 03-09-2016
Grayson was quick to notice the way she did not drink her tea. He hid his frown behind his own mug, though it did nothing to smother the way his brow knitted in the middle. She must really want something from him to agree to the beverage in the first place. He was mostly disappointed about the reagents wasted on her. He was very clearly only looking her in the eyes from this point forward, but he flinched slightly, a tightening around his eyes at that unexpected bark of laughter. He put his mug back on the counter and held up his hands defensively. Whether he was defending himself from her words or the way she was leaning closer to him was somewhat unclear. He took a step back, leaning against the opposite row of counters.
"Hangovers are easy," he explained, pushing at his glasses with one hand, the crystals around his wrist clashed together noisily. "Ages are…" he paused, gesturing, before reaching for his tea and hiding behind it again to excuse his fumbling. "Tricky," he said finally when the right word occurred to him. He'd moved the mug just enough to utter the one word.
He'd seen fifteen years olds that looked twenty, twenty year olds that looked ten. It was all a mess honestly. Better safe than sorry, as far as he was concerned.
Grayson sighed, walking around the island and crossing the kitchen to the fridge, where he retrieved a bottle of water. When he returned to his previous position he set it in front of her, she may not have been interested in tea, but she certainly needed to drink something.
"I don't... know," he admitted, hands on his glasses again. "Just. Uhm- just let me see your ID and I can get you what you need.
RE: Knock Three Times [Closed] - Tindome - 03-09-2016
oh my god
He was like a goddamned puppy. A fluffy goddamn puppy with fluffy hair who got startled by sudden movements and loud noises.
How had he not been eaten alive by now? Even in a town like this, surely there'd be someone. She couldn't imagine he was married, now; something about the way he carried himself screamed single. But why? He didn't strike her as gay. Bisexual, maybe, but not entirely disinterested in women. Too awkward, too careful, not the right ways for that to be the reason. Asexual, maybe? That would be disappointing. Might not be opposed to makeouts. Not a total loss, then. Assuming that was what it was.
The twist of her mouth was pleased, her gaze unabashedly appreciative. Not aggressively predatory, but predatory all the same. He wasn't being hunted, but the option was there.
The bottle of water was a clear signal that he would not be satisfied until she was hydrated. Fine. If her choices were water or tea, she could stomach tea. Probably. She sipped at it, being very careful to keep her face neutral rather than express her true feelings about the taste.
She was very good at that. She had a lot of practice.
"I'm getting carded," she giggled, though she didn't sound offended. She set the mug down to dig in her pocket for her wallet, which did not do much to vouch for her age, since it looked like the head of a teddy bear. If one happened to own a particularly square teddy bear.
Which card? They all said 25. It was accurate, as far as she knew. Dinah. He seemed like someone who'd like a Dinah. Dinah Jones, resident of Maine and an organ donor.
The nice thing about fake IDs was that her picture always looked amazing.
She held it out as an offer with a flutter of her eyelashes, clearly intended to be more amusing than genuinely charming. "Will this do?"
He was like a goddamned puppy. A fluffy goddamn puppy with fluffy hair who got startled by sudden movements and loud noises.
How had he not been eaten alive by now? Even in a town like this, surely there'd be someone. She couldn't imagine he was married, now; something about the way he carried himself screamed single. But why? He didn't strike her as gay. Bisexual, maybe, but not entirely disinterested in women. Too awkward, too careful, not the right ways for that to be the reason. Asexual, maybe? That would be disappointing. Might not be opposed to makeouts. Not a total loss, then. Assuming that was what it was.
The twist of her mouth was pleased, her gaze unabashedly appreciative. Not aggressively predatory, but predatory all the same. He wasn't being hunted, but the option was there.
The bottle of water was a clear signal that he would not be satisfied until she was hydrated. Fine. If her choices were water or tea, she could stomach tea. Probably. She sipped at it, being very careful to keep her face neutral rather than express her true feelings about the taste.
She was very good at that. She had a lot of practice.
"I'm getting carded," she giggled, though she didn't sound offended. She set the mug down to dig in her pocket for her wallet, which did not do much to vouch for her age, since it looked like the head of a teddy bear. If one happened to own a particularly square teddy bear.
Which card? They all said 25. It was accurate, as far as she knew. Dinah. He seemed like someone who'd like a Dinah. Dinah Jones, resident of Maine and an organ donor.
The nice thing about fake IDs was that her picture always looked amazing.
She held it out as an offer with a flutter of her eyelashes, clearly intended to be more amusing than genuinely charming. "Will this do?"
RE: Knock Three Times [Closed] - megs - 06-29-2016
His hands went to his hair, seemingly for no particular reason. He forced fingers through the sloppy curls as if he was aware of her thought process. She was not very good at keeping her thoughts to herself. He couldn’t read them, precisely, but he could feel them. They were somewhat affectionate in the degrading way the someone appreciates a cute prey animal. Not yet eaten alive.
That could easily change.
He noticed the look. He had seen it before.
Oh.
Was…was he a prey animal?
He fidgeted, pushing at the sleeves of his sweater. She didn’t like the tea, but he didn’t care. She wanted something from him and she would humor him until he decided to give it to her. Her half-lethargic energy heavy with whatever she’d had gotten into the night before.
And possibly many nights before that.
Her giggled was meant to be cute but it mostly unnerved him. It reminded him of something he’d heard on TV, he wondered if she practiced it regularly. With a mostly disinterested hum, he took the ID from her and lifted it eye level.
“Dinah...” Interesting choice. It wasn’t real, but he didn’t need magic to tell, not that magic was so precise. He flipped it over, it was well-made, but no one could ever get that damn moose right. Twenty-five seemed generous, but he was willing to let it go. With a convincing smile, he handed the card back to her.
“That will do, I guess. So, let’s go get you a charm.”
He pushed away from the counter, moving towards an adjoining hall as if he just expected her to follow. He led to what was once a den, double doors opened up into a room that could have been called spacious in the past. It was cluttered now with various materials and reagents. Crystals and beads and cords of every color. Silver and gold accents, herbs and flowers in resin, even the dried out husks of small insects.
"Most people don't believe in witchcraft," he commented, as he began to sort through crystals. They clinked together as he pushed through them. "Fertility spells are a big thing to put your trust in."
RE: Knock Three Times [Closed] - Tindome - 09-01-2016
So fidgety. He was nervous was what he was. Nervous around a pretty girl? Or nervous that a girl might find him pretty?
Could be either, could be both. She'd choose to be optimistic. Willing to kiss her until proven otherwise.
His examination of her ID seemed dubious. She narrowed her eyes as he flipped it over to check the back. Too many different states for her to keep track of what distinguished the good IDs from the bad, if they kept her in cigarettes and liquor she assumed they were good enough. Witches were tricky business, still.
I guess. Reluctant even when he was trying to be agreeable, because… didn't like to lose, maybe. Liked being right. It was a trait that warred with soft sweaters and nervous fidgeting. She slid her ID back into her wallet as she dissected his personality to examine it from all angles.
Bossypants. That part came naturally to him, little orders and leading her around without asking. She abandoned her mug as if she'd forgotten it. It was the other stuff he'd had to work at, make himself something balanced. Witches liked balance. Except the crazy witches. She didn't need crazy witches in her life. She ran her fingers along the edges of shelves, tapped the corks on glass bottles, prodded at a length of cord.
Tricky business. Couldn't be too hard on a softie because they'd break, couldn't be too soft with a control freak because they needed to break. Not enough to work with yet. More information required.
"The spell would be backup," she said, picking up a piece of dried foxglove to examine it. "I'll still be using condoms." She shrugged. "If magic's going to keep fucking me I might as well get magical protection." She twirled the stem slowly between her fingers. "I suppose if I really wanted to be sure it worked, I'd ask you to test it."
Could be either, could be both. She'd choose to be optimistic. Willing to kiss her until proven otherwise.
His examination of her ID seemed dubious. She narrowed her eyes as he flipped it over to check the back. Too many different states for her to keep track of what distinguished the good IDs from the bad, if they kept her in cigarettes and liquor she assumed they were good enough. Witches were tricky business, still.
I guess. Reluctant even when he was trying to be agreeable, because… didn't like to lose, maybe. Liked being right. It was a trait that warred with soft sweaters and nervous fidgeting. She slid her ID back into her wallet as she dissected his personality to examine it from all angles.
Bossypants. That part came naturally to him, little orders and leading her around without asking. She abandoned her mug as if she'd forgotten it. It was the other stuff he'd had to work at, make himself something balanced. Witches liked balance. Except the crazy witches. She didn't need crazy witches in her life. She ran her fingers along the edges of shelves, tapped the corks on glass bottles, prodded at a length of cord.
Tricky business. Couldn't be too hard on a softie because they'd break, couldn't be too soft with a control freak because they needed to break. Not enough to work with yet. More information required.
"The spell would be backup," she said, picking up a piece of dried foxglove to examine it. "I'll still be using condoms." She shrugged. "If magic's going to keep fucking me I might as well get magical protection." She twirled the stem slowly between her fingers. "I suppose if I really wanted to be sure it worked, I'd ask you to test it."