He doubted that—the pleasure part. It was more than the tight smile, the one that seemed so obviously forced as it had spread across her face. She didn’t appear comfortable here. He was accustomed to that. Human beings had a way of sensing when something was off about those around them; when they weren’t entirely human. This was true even of those who were not attuned to the supernatural or going-ons of metas.
“You’re abrasive, that’s why.”
Marcus sighed through his nose as he removed a tea cup and wooden box from the cabinet. He removed a baggie from the box, set it in the cup, and poured. A faint aroma of herbs mixed with green tea wafted. Barely enough for a less sensitive nose, but it was perfection to him. Which was especially good since the slip of a girl had followed him into the kitchen—closely. And she didn’t sound overly-fond of his tea either.
“You like it too warm. I told you that two lit fireplaces on was superfluous.”
Just where was she? On the stairs?
“Maybe.”
As he stared down at his tea, eyeing the mixture with hands flat on the counter and avoiding an internal response, he said, “I assume your arrival means you are to facilitate the transaction in O’Rourke’s place?” He turned slightly then to look at her, to gauge her reaction to the question. Because there was a chance there was something wrong about this whole thing. And he much preferred a concise understanding in which he knew the interworking’s of—of what one expected of the other. As he did though, he did not quite expect to become overcrowded by one Miss O’Rourke—giddy about sorbet, of all things.
His mind drew a blank rather quickly. Half because she was too close and half because he trying to recall what was housed in freezer—especially if it would aid in keeping her from crowding his space. He refused to step back only because it might give her the wrong impression—that he was a man accustomed to backing down.
“There’s a small tub of mango in the freezer, Marcus. She’s a woman, not a dragon.”
A dragon would be easier. He could dump a dragon on the street, kill it, and then get back to his tea.
“I believe we have mango in the freezer.” Of course they would, he thought with some dry sarcasm. The lady of the house so loved sweet things, even if she had to eat them without the use of her own hands. “Shall I get you a bowl before we get down to business?”
“You’re abrasive, that’s why.”
Marcus sighed through his nose as he removed a tea cup and wooden box from the cabinet. He removed a baggie from the box, set it in the cup, and poured. A faint aroma of herbs mixed with green tea wafted. Barely enough for a less sensitive nose, but it was perfection to him. Which was especially good since the slip of a girl had followed him into the kitchen—closely. And she didn’t sound overly-fond of his tea either.
“You like it too warm. I told you that two lit fireplaces on was superfluous.”
Just where was she? On the stairs?
“Maybe.”
As he stared down at his tea, eyeing the mixture with hands flat on the counter and avoiding an internal response, he said, “I assume your arrival means you are to facilitate the transaction in O’Rourke’s place?” He turned slightly then to look at her, to gauge her reaction to the question. Because there was a chance there was something wrong about this whole thing. And he much preferred a concise understanding in which he knew the interworking’s of—of what one expected of the other. As he did though, he did not quite expect to become overcrowded by one Miss O’Rourke—giddy about sorbet, of all things.
His mind drew a blank rather quickly. Half because she was too close and half because he trying to recall what was housed in freezer—especially if it would aid in keeping her from crowding his space. He refused to step back only because it might give her the wrong impression—that he was a man accustomed to backing down.
“There’s a small tub of mango in the freezer, Marcus. She’s a woman, not a dragon.”
A dragon would be easier. He could dump a dragon on the street, kill it, and then get back to his tea.
“I believe we have mango in the freezer.” Of course they would, he thought with some dry sarcasm. The lady of the house so loved sweet things, even if she had to eat them without the use of her own hands. “Shall I get you a bowl before we get down to business?”
Sometimes I feel like a girl~... sometimes I don't~
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Paper Trail [Closed] - by Blade - 09-04-2016, 08:15 PM
RE: Paper Trail [Closed] - by Blade - 09-04-2016, 10:10 PM
RE: Paper Trail [Closed] - by saronym - 09-07-2016, 09:55 PM
RE: Paper Trail [Closed] - by Blade - 09-13-2016, 08:01 PM
RE: Paper Trail [Closed] - by saronym - 09-13-2016, 10:48 PM
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RE: Paper Trail [Closed] - by saronym - 09-17-2016, 10:35 AM
RE: Paper Trail [Closed] - by Blade - 09-24-2016, 05:05 PM
RE: Paper Trail [Closed] - by saronym - 09-27-2016, 08:28 PM
RE: Paper Trail [Closed] - by Blade - 09-28-2016, 02:03 PM
RE: Paper Trail [Closed] - by saronym - 10-03-2016, 09:10 PM
RE: Paper Trail [Closed] - by Blade - 01-06-2017, 11:24 PM