"Alright," she agreed readily. A little variety could be interesting. "If you don't mind, please give me an acceptable minimum and maximum number of visits over time." She didn't want to overstay her welcome. It was best to be clear. He'd probably want strong feelings each time; it'd be sort of like she was cooking for him, in a sense. If he wanted pain--though she was loathe to admit it--she had plenty. She rarely dwelt on the past, because if she did, she found she... well, turned into someone she didn't much care for. She didn't mind being angry, being bitter, and she could feel each of these things in sudden bursts of whim.
But if she thought about it too long, didn't do other things, to stay distracted, sometimes... reality caught up with her. The little flashes of awareness that she'd never be anything but this, if she was lucky, because anything else she could be was worse, and then she'd die. Of exposure, or at the hands of one of the many monsters she'd met. And in a town full of monsters, the latter was looking, just, super possible.
Although to be completely frank, the only one who'd injured her thus far had been, far as she knew, utterly human. And that wound had already scabbed over, and was hidden by even the relatively short hem of this dress. Still. The world didn't need werewolves and gargoyles and fairies to be dangerous. In her experience, men could manage to be monsters just fine on their own.
...My, but she'd gone to a dark place there while enjoying cake. That was silly. He could probably taste it. The dark place, not the cake. "Sorry," she said, because it just seemed polite. "I was thinking." She'd have to get used to the concept of someone chewing on her moods. She didn't have the best control of them in general, though. Although, someone who asked for pain probably wouldn't mind a bit of melancholy as a side dish. Still. It was the principle of the thing.
She considered his question, which was a much happier thing to consider than the whims of men and her place in them. A functional thing could be a joy to behold, when everything lined up just so... But when you didn't know or see things lining up, it was just a thing. Things that worked, she tended to take apart to see how they worked. People... objected. Often. Loudly. With thrown objects.
On the other hand...
"Something I would be allowed to fix," she answered, once again choosing her words carefully. Something broken was just sad. Something she could fix was a learning experience and a fun time to boot. Although, her definition of "to fix" was perhaps broader than his, since taking three watches, a computer mouse, and an old boombox, and turning them into a clockwork mouse was fixing. They hadn't been a mouse, and now they were. Voila. Fixed.
A backpack full of bread and apples, too! Classic, good homeless fare. Bread and apples was right about on the money for things she deserved to be given, in a general sense, and could be carried around, traded, and shared, without risk that people would decide she was worth the trouble of what else she might have in her pretty bag. (Rats. The answer was always rats. And then the screaming started.)
She rose to follow him when he moved, but he gestured for her to stay, finish eating, so she did. She then went to wipe her mouth on her sleeve, only to remember she was wearing a very sheer dress and had nothing in the way of sleeves and definitely nothing she should be wiping her face on. She settled for brushing her face off like a rat cleaning, over the plate to catch crumbs. Though despite her attempts at being a decent eater--always a challenge--she had crumbs on her dress, as well. She stood and brushed them off. Such a shame there wasn't a rat here to clean up her and the kitchen both, properly. She sighed. No accounting for taste.
She was still standing when he came back, checking her mouth with her tongue and lips with her hands. They were about to be used, and most people objected to crumbs or bits of food. That's why they normally fed her after they got what they wanted out of her mouth. It couldn't always work out so well for them, though.
His callout made her flush, however, and for the first time, her voice came out a little grumpy--it was her natural reaction to embarrassment. "I'm sure they're perfectly--I mean, they are perfectly fine eyes," she said, her primary concern one of offense. They had been darker when he entered, but were lightening a little now, probably due to her discomfort. Her mind still wanted to tell her it was because she'd made him angry. "I don't mind either way. What could you do, whip it out and start rubbing on my face? Keeping my eyes open wouldn't--" She paused, vaguely aware of a Clarke-like voice in the back of her head, furious with her for being so crass. "Erm." She cleared her throat. "I'm fine either way," she repeated, opting to pretend like that sentence hadn't happened. "If they startle me, I can always close my eyes."
She glanced around the kitchen. "Would you like me to sit, or...?"
But if she thought about it too long, didn't do other things, to stay distracted, sometimes... reality caught up with her. The little flashes of awareness that she'd never be anything but this, if she was lucky, because anything else she could be was worse, and then she'd die. Of exposure, or at the hands of one of the many monsters she'd met. And in a town full of monsters, the latter was looking, just, super possible.
Although to be completely frank, the only one who'd injured her thus far had been, far as she knew, utterly human. And that wound had already scabbed over, and was hidden by even the relatively short hem of this dress. Still. The world didn't need werewolves and gargoyles and fairies to be dangerous. In her experience, men could manage to be monsters just fine on their own.
...My, but she'd gone to a dark place there while enjoying cake. That was silly. He could probably taste it. The dark place, not the cake. "Sorry," she said, because it just seemed polite. "I was thinking." She'd have to get used to the concept of someone chewing on her moods. She didn't have the best control of them in general, though. Although, someone who asked for pain probably wouldn't mind a bit of melancholy as a side dish. Still. It was the principle of the thing.
She considered his question, which was a much happier thing to consider than the whims of men and her place in them. A functional thing could be a joy to behold, when everything lined up just so... But when you didn't know or see things lining up, it was just a thing. Things that worked, she tended to take apart to see how they worked. People... objected. Often. Loudly. With thrown objects.
On the other hand...
"Something I would be allowed to fix," she answered, once again choosing her words carefully. Something broken was just sad. Something she could fix was a learning experience and a fun time to boot. Although, her definition of "to fix" was perhaps broader than his, since taking three watches, a computer mouse, and an old boombox, and turning them into a clockwork mouse was fixing. They hadn't been a mouse, and now they were. Voila. Fixed.
A backpack full of bread and apples, too! Classic, good homeless fare. Bread and apples was right about on the money for things she deserved to be given, in a general sense, and could be carried around, traded, and shared, without risk that people would decide she was worth the trouble of what else she might have in her pretty bag. (Rats. The answer was always rats. And then the screaming started.)
She rose to follow him when he moved, but he gestured for her to stay, finish eating, so she did. She then went to wipe her mouth on her sleeve, only to remember she was wearing a very sheer dress and had nothing in the way of sleeves and definitely nothing she should be wiping her face on. She settled for brushing her face off like a rat cleaning, over the plate to catch crumbs. Though despite her attempts at being a decent eater--always a challenge--she had crumbs on her dress, as well. She stood and brushed them off. Such a shame there wasn't a rat here to clean up her and the kitchen both, properly. She sighed. No accounting for taste.
She was still standing when he came back, checking her mouth with her tongue and lips with her hands. They were about to be used, and most people objected to crumbs or bits of food. That's why they normally fed her after they got what they wanted out of her mouth. It couldn't always work out so well for them, though.
His callout made her flush, however, and for the first time, her voice came out a little grumpy--it was her natural reaction to embarrassment. "I'm sure they're perfectly--I mean, they are perfectly fine eyes," she said, her primary concern one of offense. They had been darker when he entered, but were lightening a little now, probably due to her discomfort. Her mind still wanted to tell her it was because she'd made him angry. "I don't mind either way. What could you do, whip it out and start rubbing on my face? Keeping my eyes open wouldn't--" She paused, vaguely aware of a Clarke-like voice in the back of her head, furious with her for being so crass. "Erm." She cleared her throat. "I'm fine either way," she repeated, opting to pretend like that sentence hadn't happened. "If they startle me, I can always close my eyes."
She glanced around the kitchen. "Would you like me to sit, or...?"
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Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-01-2017, 03:48 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-01-2017, 03:49 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-01-2017, 07:06 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-01-2017, 07:31 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-01-2017, 07:52 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-01-2017, 08:06 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-01-2017, 08:29 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-01-2017, 08:49 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-01-2017, 09:38 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-01-2017, 09:48 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-02-2017, 05:22 AM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-02-2017, 07:31 AM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-04-2017, 04:33 AM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-04-2017, 02:46 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-05-2017, 03:31 AM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-05-2017, 11:17 AM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-05-2017, 02:46 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-05-2017, 03:09 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-05-2017, 07:03 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-05-2017, 07:27 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-06-2017, 03:02 AM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-06-2017, 03:31 AM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-06-2017, 04:46 AM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-06-2017, 10:54 AM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-06-2017, 09:17 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-06-2017, 11:11 PM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-07-2017, 03:55 AM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-07-2017, 10:05 AM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-08-2017, 03:11 AM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by SolitareLee - 04-08-2017, 03:36 AM
RE: Être Dans de Beaux Draps [Closed] - by Tindome - 04-08-2017, 04:12 AM