Cutely pinkening cheeks that call to mind what fresh, spring-like blood pulses double time as his heart rate quickens. Hands kept firmly in check over her knees, Paloma smiles as warmly as she can. His glasses are a little askew...
"You're the most interesting thing I look forward to. When you and the others pass out, I mean," she tacks on quickly to dodge an accusation of harassment. The absolutely last thing she needs after getting licensed and situated in a well to do institution.
Funny. The lenses hadn't seemed dirty, fogged, or as though they needed a wipe. She writes it off as a nervous tic.
"Exactly!" If cheeriness helps him feel better at ease then a little dimpling grin is no trouble, none at all. Paloma breaks eye contact to nudge books into neater stacks instead of their jenga nonsense.
"Fix them? Well, I suppose it scratches them really, but I'm always forgetting the cleaning cloth..." He's a bit scattered. For good reason though, all that work!
Her cheeriness is worse, especially her smile, it reminds him how attractive she is. Wonder why his heart just keeps pounding, that's a lot of blood flow for one young man!
A dim memory of college in her twenties pricks at her hindbrain. Of caffeine and the point where it does nothing but accelerate your heartbeat and panic. It made them a bit useless, defeating the purpose of having more coffee. She doesn't smell any fresh beverages on him or his clothes, so... can't be it.
Paloma's mouth gentles, smile fading to neutral. "Please don't work yourself up over nothing. I haven't bitten anyone today!" Her hand extends, a big book on microorganism functionality clasped.
Of all the people who peruse the library he has got to be the silliest. He reminds her a lot of herself, when she was a skittish human girl out of her mind and depth. The changing nature of fear informed her choice to hide in prestigious obscurity, so she can understand his nerves if not why he's frazzled around the American library lady.
Biting? she nearly inquires, holding back at the last second. Bad girl, playing with... with food. Miss Vasquez readjusts to tuck her feet underneath her bum, fixing her skirt as she does. "We could go and see right now, if paying fines is a highlight for you?"
Like the book can shield him from the comprehension dawning across her face. For an undead thing attuned to the emotional spectrum of kine, this little problem skated past Paloma's notice.
Oh, no.
The creases of her brow deepen. "You're sweet," she says bleakly, "for saying so." What to do? Persuade him out of an ill-advised crush?
He regrets saying it. But still it's true and maybe it's dishonest to simply pretend he doesn't have any sort of crush on her. Especially such a massive one.
"Sorry-- It's inappropriate. Besides which I must seem quite immature and unmannered!" Why would she look well on his crush anyway!
Immature? No. A focused young man, very advanced. Unmannered? He would hardly apologize or trip over himself to find anything to apologize for if he didn't have home training.
It squeezes her heart to be confronted by him and his earnestness, and it speaks to the years where she'd have taken anything on offer. Her determination to keep herself to herself in these halls falters.
"How? No! Not once." Night after barren night and never a single soul who might begin knowing her. Paloma's shoulders droop, but she leans toward him. "I... I could... use a friend, here."
Oh, yes, he can work with that! Honestly it would probably better and easier for him that way...
"I should think falling asleep on the floor of a public space would seem immature and ill-mannered." He laughs a little, and gives a nod.
"I'd like that. I was thinking of having some tea, to help me through the night, would you care for anything...?" Y'know, if he were to go out to some all night cafe and bring something back. As a friend.
'Friend' has a rather broad definition for someone like Paloma. Maybe she hasn't aged out of desperation, if they're considering this inadvisable course and not cutting it short right now.
It's only Paloma who knows just how stupid they're being, so he has an excuse for teetering on the edge of a dangerous game. She just offers up a dreamer's hopeful smile.
"That does sound nice, I don't plan on sleeping tonight, and a break from reading would be good."
He smiles and uses the bookshelf to help himself get to his feet, scooping up the pile of books to find a better, safer spot to keep them.
"I'll be back shortly then." He's totally gonna rub one out in the car. But also find some caffeine! ...But also rub one out in the car. It should clear his head, make him less foolish, maybe.
When he returns, he brings two teas anyway, and a pair of muffins.
See? Home training. Now she won't have to tidy up while he's away, leaving her with oodles of time to slap sense into and out of herself. Luckily (or unluckily) nobody else arrives at this late hour to watch the librarian twist her hair and scold no one. Only rumor worse than whispers she's overly affectionate with a student is everyone deciding she's a crazy lady. They would have her living in a hut with six cats in under a week.
A TIME magazine and an empty mug are situated before her linked hands when he pops back in, tea and muffins in tow. Paloma glances up from the open page, pretending not to have heard the doors and heavy footsteps... or the scent of ejaculate clinging to him. Oh my God.
Up goes her hand again, twisting a lock of hair more viciously. "Mister Jekyll. You really came back." Helpless to resist, her eyes tick down to his groin and then away to the reflective floor.
She's cheating by having these heightened senses, it's incredibly rude, no one should know that he spills his seed in vain! He's already self-conscious about it, as if she might somehow know what he did - and here she does when any normal person couldn't!
"Of course, Miss Vasquez, was I going to run away from you?" He places his offerings before her and takes a seat. There's his notes and textbooks on the desk, so he pulls them over for easy access. "Ah, it's, Henry, by the way."
Was he? He ought to. A little demon tapdances on her heartstrings. The more guilt she feels, the more she turns from conventional Kindred wisdom. It's a perverse commitment to stupidity.
Paloma moves with more unconscious liquidity than just any library lady at Oxford should. Her attention centers solely on the flickers of feeling in his open face, and she leans over the forgotten magazine, but her half-cocked grin is pure uncertainty.
"If it's you and me, you can call me Paloma." Her lips move wordlessly in an almost-confession of the years it's been since anyone's used her name over drinks.
He should try to convince himself he only wants her so badly because he spends so much time here and therefore she becomes one of his only interactions at times! Like now! It's so late hardly anyone else comes around, and he can't just text someone and expect a response at this hour for distraction... So there's the librarian. Who has a very lovely smile. And a charming Californian accent.
"Have you lived here long, Miss Paloma?" A nice opportunity to use that name she's so graciously provided.
He wasn't the dinner she planned for and Paloma fights her natural urges, which take a darker bent than his by miles. Henry is vital, his blood runs and runs and she can feel its rush, leaning further in.
Don't notice the tits resting over her arms as she hugs herself, boy, or their gentle rise and fall in her false breath. "No, Mister Henry," she pokes a little fun of his formality. "I'm in a new chapter. But you belong here, huh?"
Can't do much about them except for binding and layering up on sweatshirts. Forgive her for not going to extremes to hide her ampleness.
The tea and muffin will go cold, go stale. To sidetrack him from how useful his generosity wasn't, Paloma laughs and stops while she's ahead of draping clear across this public table. Even without witnesses, she'd know she was being a tart.
"Then you're leagues ahead of me. I have no idea where anything is." No companion to explore with.
"That short a time? Well, seeing as my exams are finished next week, I, ah, would be able to show you around, if you like..." His eyes are still firmly fixed in his lap, so he can't even notice her effort at not being a tart!
That she shouldn't have dropped. Bad, bad girl. Down. Leave him be. Presence his attraction, redirect it, because she isn't strong enough to deny him the small tokens of affection that burgeon into something bigger. And they will start.
Traitorous longing surges into her throat. "The Radcliffe Camera? Bridge of Sighs?"
Another glance at his sweetheart's eagerness and she forgets her caution, proving once and for all that Paloma isn't very old in the end. The giddiness crinkling the corners of her eyes is pure girlish glee.
"Oh, I'm like a bat, only getting out and about at night. Does that scare you off?" Her voice is light yet warmer than honey.
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"You're the most interesting thing I look forward to. When you and the others pass out, I mean," she tacks on quickly to dodge an accusation of harassment. The absolutely last thing she needs after getting licensed and situated in a well to do institution.
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"I suppose it would break up the monotony of the night at least!"
Quick, do something to not have to look directly at her - he takes his glasses off to wipe them clean on his shirt.
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"Exactly!" If cheeriness helps him feel better at ease then a little dimpling grin is no trouble, none at all. Paloma breaks eye contact to nudge books into neater stacks instead of their jenga nonsense.
"Does that really fix them?"
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Her cheeriness is worse, especially her smile, it reminds him how attractive she is. Wonder why his heart just keeps pounding, that's a lot of blood flow for one young man!
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Paloma's mouth gentles, smile fading to neutral. "Please don't work yourself up over nothing. I haven't bitten anyone today!" Her hand extends, a big book on microorganism functionality clasped.
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He hesitates, due to the embarrassment and shyness more than anything else, but takes the book.
"...It's a highlight of my day." Hardly more than a mumble.
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Biting? she nearly inquires, holding back at the last second. Bad girl, playing with... with food. Miss Vasquez readjusts to tuck her feet underneath her bum, fixing her skirt as she does. "We could go and see right now, if paying fines is a highlight for you?"
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"Seeing, ah, seeing you, I mean." The instant it leaves his mouth he regrets it and clutches the book tight in his hands as he grows redder.
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Oh, no.
The creases of her brow deepen. "You're sweet," she says bleakly, "for saying so." What to do? Persuade him out of an ill-advised crush?
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"Sorry-- It's inappropriate. Besides which I must seem quite immature and unmannered!" Why would she look well on his crush anyway!
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It squeezes her heart to be confronted by him and his earnestness, and it speaks to the years where she'd have taken anything on offer. Her determination to keep herself to herself in these halls falters.
"How? No! Not once." Night after barren night and never a single soul who might begin knowing her. Paloma's shoulders droop, but she leans toward him. "I... I could... use a friend, here."
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"I should think falling asleep on the floor of a public space would seem immature and ill-mannered." He laughs a little, and gives a nod.
"I'd like that. I was thinking of having some tea, to help me through the night, would you care for anything...?" Y'know, if he were to go out to some all night cafe and bring something back. As a friend.
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It's only Paloma who knows just how stupid they're being, so he has an excuse for teetering on the edge of a dangerous game. She just offers up a dreamer's hopeful smile.
"Just some-- some company."
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He smiles and uses the bookshelf to help himself get to his feet, scooping up the pile of books to find a better, safer spot to keep them.
"I'll be back shortly then." He's totally gonna rub one out in the car. But also find some caffeine! ...But also rub one out in the car. It should clear his head, make him less foolish, maybe.
When he returns, he brings two teas anyway, and a pair of muffins.
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A TIME magazine and an empty mug are situated before her linked hands when he pops back in, tea and muffins in tow. Paloma glances up from the open page, pretending not to have heard the doors and heavy footsteps... or the scent of ejaculate clinging to him. Oh my God.
Up goes her hand again, twisting a lock of hair more viciously. "Mister Jekyll. You really came back." Helpless to resist, her eyes tick down to his groin and then away to the reflective floor.
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"Of course, Miss Vasquez, was I going to run away from you?" He places his offerings before her and takes a seat. There's his notes and textbooks on the desk, so he pulls them over for easy access. "Ah, it's, Henry, by the way."
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Paloma moves with more unconscious liquidity than just any library lady at Oxford should. Her attention centers solely on the flickers of feeling in his open face, and she leans over the forgotten magazine, but her half-cocked grin is pure uncertainty.
"If it's you and me, you can call me Paloma." Her lips move wordlessly in an almost-confession of the years it's been since anyone's used her name over drinks.
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"Have you lived here long, Miss Paloma?" A nice opportunity to use that name she's so graciously provided.
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Don't notice the tits resting over her arms as she hugs herself, boy, or their gentle rise and fall in her false breath. "No, Mister Henry," she pokes a little fun of his formality. "I'm in a new chapter. But you belong here, huh?"
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"Well, I have always lived in the region, yes." And his family for that matter, very British.
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The tea and muffin will go cold, go stale. To sidetrack him from how useful his generosity wasn't, Paloma laughs and stops while she's ahead of draping clear across this public table. Even without witnesses, she'd know she was being a tart.
"Then you're leagues ahead of me. I have no idea where anything is." No companion to explore with.
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That she shouldn't have dropped. Bad, bad girl. Down. Leave him be. Presence his attraction, redirect it, because she isn't strong enough to deny him the small tokens of affection that burgeon into something bigger. And they will start.
Traitorous longing surges into her throat. "The Radcliffe Camera? Bridge of Sighs?"
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"We could go into the city, there are plenty of thing to do in the East end." High class things.
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"Oh, I'm like a bat, only getting out and about at night. Does that scare you off?" Her voice is light yet warmer than honey.
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