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.
"I'm a bit of a night owl myself, I often sleep through the day and go about my business at night. That works perfectly." He won't question it. "Do you like theatre, or orchestras?"
Henry speaks to her spirit. That must play a part in the indulgence. At the introduction of the arts she lifts higher in her seat, pearly whites flashing. Paloma seems about his age again.
He only just introduced himself as Henry, it would be weird to ask for Harry or to drop the mister, wouldn't it? It's kind of charming though, even if he was the one that started it. "Someone in the library sciences must have an appreciation for the things with which it goes hand in hand!"
While she's happy to drop the coy formality, he must be brave and ask. His own fault for insisting on 'miss' directly after she'd said he could use Paloma. Just Paloma.
She draws swirls with the tip of her finger around the empty mug, feeling years younger in proximity to his excitement. "Art history was what I studied in the first place, so you couldn't be more right. Where should I meet you?"
So illicit, 'meet you'. Like a secret rendezvous in the making.
He'll have fits left to his own devices. An unladylike giggle escapes her, smothered in part by fingers curling over her mouth. Her free hand crosses the table and rests over his trembling one.
"Sssh, please. Where would you come for me? Not Oxford... "
He is smoldering. In fairness, so is she, although the smolder is difficult to turn off when one is Toreador to the bone. Or more accurately: to the blood.
Either way, Paloma's lashes lower specifically so as to gaze furtively up to his flushed face. Her thumb moves just slightly. "Bernadette Park?"
He nods. "That sounds nice." He tries very hard not to think about all the hideaway spots a park offers. Because he's not a degenerate.
"Let me know if there's any particular shows you would be most interested in, then. I'll make sure we have good seats." Let him be her young sugar daddy??
He could turn to the expert on hideaway park nooks and crannies, who named this particular park first because it's a favorite hunting ground. She hides a wince at the morbidity of the suggestion and making the dinner table into a rendezvous.
"-- So soon? Won't those have been taken?"
A hint of anxiety in the tap-tapping of her finger over his wrist.
Hey it's good to have her expert opinion! He'll be very glad for it, find them somewhere nice for a little makeout......
"Most of them, perhaps, particularly in the orchestra, but I...I have a box." A private box that belongs to him. That's only sold at the very last minute if he hasn't taken it.
He has the decency to seem humbled about admitting to be a card-carrying member of the bourgeoisie.
With a curling smile she forgives him his wealth, even with a trickle of wariness. Her cautious nature is overridden by what she sees behind his eyes. Were he to flaunt and strut in a misguided attempt to impress Paloma, this talk would've ended before it began.
Attending Oxford should be enough to make him seem like a rich bitch, he doesn't want anyone to take it the wrong way! Yes he's been born into money, but it hasn't made him a stuck-up jerk. Just the opposite, he hopes.
"I'm sure you are yourself!" Haha, yeah, hiding surprises... Yeah, she could say that, he certainly is. Some a little more serious than others. Some like Hyde. Still, it makes him smile. "I would love to know you better."
I ran across an ocean inside a private jet's cargo hold to escape my sire's politics. I've bled you a few times already. You're delicious. I magicked the headmaster into giving me this job and these hours with a talk and a kiss, and more.
I'm a Goddamned vampire who knows better.
Her laugh is strained. "You think that now!" Slowly, delicately, she trails her hand away. "Ah. It's already near closing time." And the tea and muffin haven't been touched.
"Ah-- I really did sleep the night away!" At least if they're going to part, the temptation will be gone. So will his embarrassment. More or less. But he's just so foolish, "May I walk you to the car, or wherever it is you're going, then?" Because it's dangerous at this time of night, of course!
Very dangerous, and nowhere more so than at her side.
The teeth she flashes him are white, dazzling, and blunt. Not even a hint of fang in the lot.
Dawn is some scarce couple of hours away, and her car is in the nearest parking area in case a quick getaway is ever needed. With Jekyll, though, she takes her sweet time walking past rows and rows of neat gardens. Her hands clasp harmlessly away, buried in her skirt. Deep inhales remind her of what there is to lose if she jeopardizes this paradise. The internal wrangling hasn't subsided when they arrive at the nondescript (borrowed) vehicle.
It's so tempting to offer his arm or a hand even, to be a proper escort, and to be closer to her. But it seems too forward. This date they're planning is just as friends, right? So he needs to forget about his crush and raging hard-on for her. But her hesitation makes him wonder, and hesitate as well. How should he say goodbye? A handshake? That seems too stiff. A kiss is far too much. A hug might be too much too. So he just. Fidgets.
"I suppose I'll be seeing you tomorrow night, I'll try not to fall asleep and make your job more difficult, this time."
The anxiety in him is so vividly apparent that she arrives faster to a read of his desires; his reluctance to leave, or to leave things as they are. He's both pitiable and endearing as a puppy with its paws wet.
Paloma takes that unwise step forward, just a foot away, to trace the back of his hand inquisitively. She's not unused to looking up. "You're confusing difficulty with good fun. Would you like to check out a thesaurus?" Her lips part.
"Is it? I think I need a dictionary then." He laughs a little not only for the misconception but also for her fingers on his hand. It makes him even more nervous, he shouldn't be left alone with someone he finds so attractive, it's very dangerous.
It's a shame even if he looks down she's able to see his face. Especially if he looks down. It's far too reddened, and far too hot, and his heart could jump right out of his chest as he takes the plunge into curling his fingers around hers.
He's a rather noisy boy even when saying nothing. His rushing blood, blooming close to the surface of his skin-- thud-thud-thudding heartbeats-- the beginning of sweat, although that tickles her nose more than her ears.
It piques her interest and her appetite. Paloma rocks forward and back, sighing almost imperceptibly, because how could she possibly feed on Henry Jekyll from here on in?
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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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"Mister Henry, it's like you already know me."
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She draws swirls with the tip of her finger around the empty mug, feeling years younger in proximity to his excitement. "Art history was what I studied in the first place, so you couldn't be more right. Where should I meet you?"
So illicit, 'meet you'. Like a secret rendezvous in the making.
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FUCK FUCK FUCK HE DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT??? but also he would do that too....
Of course, if he hadn't made a big deal about it, the wording wouldn't be even a little strange.
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"Sssh, please. Where would you come for me? Not Oxford... "
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"Anywhere that would be convenient? At home or here, a landmark of sorts? It doesn't much matter to me." Same with where he'd fuck her, tbh
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Either way, Paloma's lashes lower specifically so as to gaze furtively up to his flushed face. Her thumb moves just slightly. "Bernadette Park?"
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"Let me know if there's any particular shows you would be most interested in, then. I'll make sure we have good seats." Let him be her young sugar daddy??
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"-- So soon? Won't those have been taken?"
A hint of anxiety in the tap-tapping of her finger over his wrist.
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"Most of them, perhaps, particularly in the orchestra, but I...I have a box." A private box that belongs to him. That's only sold at the very last minute if he hasn't taken it.
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With a curling smile she forgives him his wealth, even with a trickle of wariness. Her cautious nature is overridden by what she sees behind his eyes. Were he to flaunt and strut in a misguided attempt to impress Paloma, this talk would've ended before it began.
"You're hiding more surprises, I'm sure."
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"I'm sure you are yourself!" Haha, yeah, hiding surprises... Yeah, she could say that, he certainly is. Some a little more serious than others. Some like Hyde. Still, it makes him smile. "I would love to know you better."
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I'm a Goddamned vampire who knows better.
Her laugh is strained. "You think that now!" Slowly, delicately, she trails her hand away. "Ah. It's already near closing time." And the tea and muffin haven't been touched.
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"Ah-- I really did sleep the night away!" At least if they're going to part, the temptation will be gone. So will his embarrassment. More or less. But he's just so foolish, "May I walk you to the car, or wherever it is you're going, then?" Because it's dangerous at this time of night, of course!
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The teeth she flashes him are white, dazzling, and blunt. Not even a hint of fang in the lot.
Dawn is some scarce couple of hours away, and her car is in the nearest parking area in case a quick getaway is ever needed. With Jekyll, though, she takes her sweet time walking past rows and rows of neat gardens. Her hands clasp harmlessly away, buried in her skirt. Deep inhales remind her of what there is to lose if she jeopardizes this paradise. The internal wrangling hasn't subsided when they arrive at the nondescript (borrowed) vehicle.
She hesitates.
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"I suppose I'll be seeing you tomorrow night, I'll try not to fall asleep and make your job more difficult, this time."
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Paloma takes that unwise step forward, just a foot away, to trace the back of his hand inquisitively. She's not unused to looking up. "You're confusing difficulty with good fun. Would you like to check out a thesaurus?" Her lips part.
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It's a shame even if he looks down she's able to see his face. Especially if he looks down. It's far too reddened, and far too hot, and his heart could jump right out of his chest as he takes the plunge into curling his fingers around hers.
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It piques her interest and her appetite. Paloma rocks forward and back, sighing almost imperceptibly, because how could she possibly feed on Henry Jekyll from here on in?
"Thesaurus will do you better."
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