Paloma will just press a closed-mouth kiss to the hand she stole if he doesn't extricate himself, thank you. "It is not agony if your monster is gentle. I do not need to take too much." Her voice drops. "Would you sit with me?"
"Of course." He smiles...and realises that he still isn't dressed. Ah. And she's sitting on a lab table. "Would you like to sit somewhere a little more comfortable, perhaps?"
Looks like the appropriate course of action is to let go of the poor man. She wiggles off the table and onto her bare feet, failing utterly to block out old blood and death's lingering scent. Finally, after avoiding them for so long, she peeks at his eyes. "You will forget comfort if we do this."
Chez lounges are one of the pieces of furniture Paloma enjoys the most about England. They're much, much rarer in the Americas. She rocks forward onto her toes to get a good, appreciative look at it, incidentally tugging his elbow.
"Pretty." Beauty's beauty. With that she twists and reclaims her arm, stopping at a length just before her fingers fall from Jekyll. Picking backward step by step, staring up-- maybe he remembers the hunger in her eyes when she led him to the tavern bed. This isn't dissimilar.
He recognises it, and something in himself he doesn't like. To get away from that feeling, he gestures that she should sit, on the lounge if she likes, and opens a wardrobe. "If you will excuse me a moment, I shall dress properly!"
She takes the hint, arranges herself on the lounge. When his back is turned Paloma bounces on it, just a little.
"Please, you are the house master!" To gather the Beast more tightly, to be less driven by appetite, she flops gracelessly onto a pillow and squeezes that. No no. Don't mind her. Go get dressed.
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Paloma will just press a closed-mouth kiss to the hand she stole if he doesn't extricate himself, thank you. "It is not agony if your monster is gentle. I do not need to take too much." Her voice drops. "Would you sit with me?"
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no subject
Looks like the appropriate course of action is to let go of the poor man. She wiggles off the table and onto her bare feet, failing utterly to block out old blood and death's lingering scent. Finally, after avoiding them for so long, she peeks at his eyes. "You will forget comfort if we do this."
no subject
He offers his arm to lead her upstairs to the office space, much more properly furnished with an armchair and even a chez lounge.
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"Pretty." Beauty's beauty. With that she twists and reclaims her arm, stopping at a length just before her fingers fall from Jekyll. Picking backward step by step, staring up-- maybe he remembers the hunger in her eyes when she led him to the tavern bed. This isn't dissimilar.
no subject
no subject
"Please, you are the house master!" To gather the Beast more tightly, to be less driven by appetite, she flops gracelessly onto a pillow and squeezes that. No no. Don't mind her. Go get dressed.