Impropertown
Who: W'ton and Hattie
Where: Herb garden
When: Lunchtime on day 23, month 9, turn 19
What: W'ton and Hattie talk. W'ton is very manly despite mentioning slipcovers and brocade. Hattie needs her hair fixed.
Since autumn means winter is just around the corner there's plenty of people looking for excuses to be outdoors before it requires several layers of clothes to not freeze when there. Noontime sun has the temperature high enough that not even a light coat is required. As a matter of fact, at least for W'ton, it's warm enough that his shirt sleeves are rolled up as he enjoys his lunch on a bench in the garden. Eating alone he looks up to smile whenever someone passes without inviting anyone to sit.
Known never to do lunch at normal hours, to see Hattie tearing through somewhere at this time with her focus not entirely on her surroundings can't be an uncommon sight. This lunchtime, she's got an assortment of parcels tied together and slung over one shoulder, her gaze fixed on the notepad in her hand and a pen lodged somewhere in the explosion her hair has turned out to be today. A pen that she's searching for whilst trying not to make it obvious that she's lost it somewhere in those frizzy waves, which means she's just tugging her hair out of her eyes or tightening the band that holds some of it up or retying the ribbons - yes, ribbons - that are laced through it, just as she passes by the bench W'ton is sat on.
"Pretty sure," W'ton says when he looks up a the sound of footprints and sees who it is, "That they allow you to take a break every now and again." He sets his plate full of raw vegetables a few pieces of cheese aside so he can stand up. "As a matter of fact I'm pretty sure they're encouraged, Hattie. You don't have to be moving all the time so people know you're doing what you should." There's a quiet clucking sound in the back of his throat before he gestures to the bench. "You must at least sit and let me fix your hair."
Since she wasn't moving all that slow, when Hattie swings round at the sound of the bronzerider's voice, a combination of momentum gained and weight of parcels sends her stumbling off balance and backwards a few paces. And the pen falls out of her hair. She doesn't flail, since that would be quite undignified, and once she's steady again she blinks a couple of times as she belatedly processes all those words. "You're such a woman," is what she comes out with in return. "Should I be worried?" Despite that, she takes a step or two back in the right direction. "A break? What's that?" But the string of parcels get set down and she starts staring around for wherever the pen fell.
What he doesn't do is lunge forward to try to catch her when she stumbles. Instead W'ton lets her right herself although once she has he looks her over carefully to be sure somehow she didn't break. "Hey, next time I can be all manly and just tell you to drop the work because that's for men and that you should strip for me?" The question is asked with a laugh although there's a more thoughtful tone to his, "You know, that last part's not bad. We could go to my weyr." But he doesn't try to toss her over his shoulder or anything. What he does do is point to her left where the pen landed just off the path. "A break is what makes sure you don't overdo it. You've got a lifetime of work ahead of you. No need to do it all now."
The pen is retrieved and lodged back in her hair - some people never learn - only for one of the blue ribbons to fall out this time. "What does the world have against me today?" Hattie exclaims as she bends to fetch the latest escapee back too. "No stripping," she remembers to say. "But the rest... later," is promised without much deviousness and without further argumentative remarks. "I've got a lifetime of work behind me too and I never got all that done. Odds are, I'll never get all this done either," she sighs, making a retreat to the bench to sit down for a minute. Just a minute.
"You do know there's more to life than work, yes?" W'ton asks with barely an acknowledgement of her promise. More important things to talk about than nakedness? How wrong! Once he's reseated he stretches his legs out in front of him. "You ever think maybe the world's trying to tell you take it a little easy?" There's hardly a touch of humor in his voice when he asks that. "You need to learn to slow down otherwise you're going to keep moving so fast someday you'll move right over the edge of a cliff and not even know until it's too late." Pausing he leans closer and lowers his voice, "And even you would not look good splattered at the bottom of a cliff."
Hattie turns her head towards him when he leans closer and declares, ever so seriously, "Elaruth would save me." It's impossible to tell whether that's absolute faith or just her being contrary. She keeps her voice as low as his when she says, "There's work and there's things around the edges. It's when you get too caught up in the edges that things start to get messy." There's a happy life philosophy. Whilst she speaks, one hand weaves the ribbon around the fingers of the other. "You slow down and somebody'll yank the rug out from under you so fast..." She presses her lips tight shut and shoves the rest of that aside; tries to calm a little and leave 'work mode' behind. "...You said you'd fix my hair," comes out as a quiet plea, voice soft instead of low.
"Well, I ain't work now am I?" W'ton says and he doesn't bother finishing the thought. "Turn around. Gimme your back." And then he reaches out to try to disentangle the ribbon from her fingers so when she does turn around he can sit sidewise on the bench and reach her hair with the ribbon in his lap. "So, you two all settled into your weyr? I was going to bring you a weyrwarming gift, but I wasn't sure what colors you'd done it in and all. Didn't want it to clash so you'd have to hide it away or something. Casual conversation!
Hattie peers back over her shoulder once she's settled to look him right in the eye. "Sometimes." Him being work. "But you ain't the edges either. You're..." She can't find something to complete that statement and the moment any vulnerability begins to drift into her eyes, she looks right back round to stare straight ahead, shoulders stiff and back suddenly rigid. "She likes it," the weyrling replies, clipped and overcompensating. "There's no real colour theme, but it's quite dark. I left it plain for days - didn't want to damage it. But eventually that just becomes stupid." Quiet. Quiet. More quiet. "Gedroth told Elaruth something about you and there being a lot of pink?"
A strand of hair is given a gentle tug as W'ton laughs. "I'll show you work later, missy." Missy. Even if she is a little older than him. Maybe he's just saying it be annoying. Before getting to work on her hair he leans forward to rest his chin on her shoulder. In her ear he says, "You figure out what I am you let me know. Otherwise I'll keep going with what I've decided." Chin up, lean back, get down to work. Since he has no hair there's no magically appearing comb or anything. But his finger start combing through her hair and it's clearly something he's had practice with judging by the way he manages to not tug her head back repeatedly. "Then color I shall bring!" he announces about her weyr. "Ahh. Gedroth was correct on that count. I got dared to put one of my lottery tickets in for the weyr that was painted pink. That's the one I got. It looks good if I do say so myself. I'd considered painting over it, but...well, then I'd be teased to no end and it's not like having pink walls threatens my manhood."
So many responses to him showing her work, so little time. So Hattie doesn't make any of them, only lets out a single exclamation of laughter that makes her shoulders twitch. She tilts her head a little and turns it so that she's looking out across her shoulder rather than back at him once again. "What have you decided?" she questions, a curious lilt to her voice. "A nice pink or a hideous pink? And I don't know about pink threatening your manhood, but over-decorating might. You've probably put everyone to shame with that already, am I right?" Awkward silence. "The decorating. Not... manhood." Silent. Still. "...I think I'll just shut up for the rest of the day."
"No, no!" W'ton says in a cheery voice with a hint of teasing in it. "Do go on about my manhood the rest of the day. Why, I can even give you a list of people to go do it in front of!" Again he tweaks her hair, but he doesn't stop for long because he has to finish combing it. Not that he goes too swiftly likely for fear she'll bolt away as soon as he's done. "The pink is nice though. A pale color. If it were hideous, dare or no, I'd not have tried for it I think. As for over decorating, nonsense. It's quite tasteful. Although I've plans for some new slipcovers for the couches and chairs when I've the marks to invest in some well patterned brocades." Was that a threat to his manhood? Who knows. Only after all that does he give an answer to her first asked question. "Why, I've decided I'm the reason you get up in the morning. Your center of the universe. Your reason for being. Excepting Elaruth, of course."
Hattie brings one hand up and covers her eyes with it. "I'm sitting here with a man who uses the words 'slipcovers' and 'brocades' in conversation and who is probably better at styling my hair than I am." Both hands drop heavily to her knees and she over-exaggerates slouching and slumping her shoulders. "What have I got myself into?" The world is ending, the sky is falling and yet she's still sitting there quite contentedly letting him sort out her mess of ribbons and frizz. Except the 'minute' has gone on for a while now and it's debatable whether she's staying because she thinks she's eventually going to look more presentable or because he's there. "Does that mean I can be the reason you get up in the morning?" she asks, staring right ahead, words taking a trip somewhere between the alleyways of downright improper.
There comes a point where his fingers stop moving and he stares at a ribbon. "Huh. Might have to cut this whole chunk of hair out," he teases with a laugh. "That'll teach you to wonder what's going on." But then he's back to working the ribbon out. "Well, I can belch more?" he offers. "Scratch myself? Talk about all the improper ways I want to wear you out at night?" Hey, she started it! Not that it was so bad what W’ton said. But, "You're the reason I get up several times a day, my dear," is quite past the alleys and welcome to Impropertown. Population him. "Spend the night tonight with me?" gets asked as the last ribbon is worked free. "Doesn't have to be my weyr, Hattie if that bothers you. I'd be happy to come to yours." Just in case there's some game going on he doesn't know about and there's a score or something to be kept. "I don't have to use all these ribbons again do I?" He sounds as if it would be a painful thing to do that when he fixes her hair.
"Cut my hair and it'll be the last thing you ever do," Hattie threatens, trying to glare back at him without moving her head all that much. Her gaze softens soon enough and she simply says, "Elaruth," to explain both ribbons and the question he posed before that. "Wanted me to wear ribbons. They don't have to go back in, no." Being that talk of ribbons allows time to think of answers to other things. "I don't mind your weyr or mine," she begins. "But she... I can't exactly hope she'll be asleep or distracted and I... don't want her overreacting. So mine is probably 'safest' unless you or Dasarth have objections." There's no attempt made to look at him during all of that and past bravado and teasing it's painfully obvious that she's not great at this sort of talk.
"Well, I always wanted to die in bed so I figure if I do cut your hair it'll be in bed," W'ton says all serious as the ribbons are smoothed out. "Ahh. Well, we mustn't let Elaruth down. I shall use some of them." But not all. He sorts out the best looking ones and makes sure their colors match to his satisfaction. "I've no objections at all. Hey, do you have a bath in your weyr?" Now he sounds excited about going to her place. So long as he gets the right answer. "Dasarth can always go to his own ledge for the night if he objects. Maybe we can get him to invite Elaruth since they both seem to like looking down so much." There's a trace of eagerness in his voice now though because...spending the night! Yay! "Tell you what," he teases around the excitement, "I'll save the really bizarre requests until she's all grown up then." Fingers go through her hair once more before he settles to work. The intricate braid he works on is slow work especially since a few ribbons are being worked into her hair at the same time. "How about you come have dinner with us and after dinner we can go to your place? I'd like for you to see what I've done."
"I have a bath," Hattie confirms. "We might even fit in it together." That's teasing and it's easy for her to sound a little wicked, easier than really talking about... anything else. "You have bizarre requests?" As if she ever doubted that. "Really bizarre requests?" She rolls her eyes. "I'll just have to barricade the weyr shut. Can't have any of that. Except then you'd probably yell them so loud the whole Weyr would hear." Talk of yelling makes her shut up again and stare down at the feet which aren't quite lodged completely in her mouth yet. "You never know, I could be worrying for nothing. She's getting on with the world a lot better these days," she murmurs. "She could just sit and chat and decide that Dasarth needs a cuddle." Joking? Avoiding any dinner and dessert euphemisms, she just nods. "Alright."
W'ton's going to be offering to do her hair more often if it gives her a way to talk without looking at him. Maybe she'll say lots more! "Don't have any bizarre requests actually, but I could ask around and see if I hear any that sound appealing?" Then he's letting out a loud contented sigh. "A bath. Your own bath. I am going to be jealous forever of that. Do you mind if I borrow it sometime?" Pausing for a second he adds, "I don't even need you in there. Not that I won't mind you joining me, but sometimes I miss having my own bath. I'll even wash your hair." Well, why not? He's braiding it so might as well take care of it since she can't! "Dasarth likes her fine. And his ledge is big enough for them both. I imagine they'll have to sit mighty close when they're all grown up to still fit, but that's ok. That just means you won't be able to escape when I've lured you up there."
"Braiding and washing my hair. What's next, painting each other's toenails?" Finally, Hattie turns round properly and maybe just hopes he's got the end of that braid secure. "/Please/ tell me you don't have any of that polish stuff," she pleads over-dramatically, with hands reaching as though to grip his shirt. "Between all this and the brocades, I might just have to cry," she threatens. "And just for that, maybe I'll /never/ go in the bath with you. But sure. As long as I don't schedule a meeting with someone someday and they end up finding you in my bath. No matter how polite I try to be, I don't think there'd be any explaining that away."
"They'd just die of jealousy," W'ton says of the imaginary person who might wander in on him in nothing but bubbles. "I'll have Dasarth check with Elaruth how about that?" All the while his hand's been holding the end of her braid with enough slack to not tug at her when she turns her head. "But, no. I do not polish my nails, sweetheart. The not-braid-holding-hand is shown to her. Calloused, rough, fine looking nails, but no polish. "Besides we ain't washing each other's hair cause I got none remember? But if you don't want my help with this stuff just say so. I'm just trying to-" Frowning for a moment he shakes his head. "Shells, I don't know. I thought this was what I was supposed to be doing? Making things easier for you and reminding you of things you forget in your hurry to do everything and be everywhere. Besides I like taking care of you. It ain't just sex for me."
"Never said anything about washing your hair," the goldrider protests. If he inhabits Impropertown on occasion, she's renting something over there in Ineptville. Maybe they share a common border. Hattie stares for a moment, mirth draining from her expression and leaving her looking a little forlorn. "...I'm only... kidding..." she struggles to say, now drifting somewhere between determined not-upset and generally embarrassed. There's far too much weakness on display, so she looks away and retreats. For a girl with such a mouth on her, silence might be better, yet for her it only seems worse and as seconds pass by she just can't find anything to say. Even then she pretends that the silence is intentional and tries to find something in the distance to focus on.
"Drat. Now I guess I won't grow that bushy old beard in," W'ton says as he uses the last ribbon that passes muster to tie off the braid. He gives it a gentle tug to be sure it's all secure. "Hey, shhh. Hattie, it's fine. Sometimes I don't know what to say." Let her look away though because it just makes it easier for him to scoot closer to her on the bench and wrap his arms around her waist. If she wants to sit in silence he's going to do it like that with a place for her to lean back if she wants. "I know," he says eventually after giving the top of her head a kiss, "That I seem like I'm the most amazing thing...well, you know, I am, but that's not what I am saying. I guess I just...I know I'm gonna screw something up with us eventually and I just want you to know when it happens that I didn't mean to. That you're important to me." He doesn't let silence linger that long before he kisses the top of her head again and grins. "Now, you just sit right there because I've got to tell you what happened last night when I was in stores looking for throw pillows." There he goes being girly again, but he's got a silly story to tell her about mistaken identity and the wrong sheets and a very embarrassed smith who may have been wearing women's shoes. Long and somewhat rambling to keep her still a little longer likely knowing she's going to leave at any minute now.
She'll sit and listen and lean and even quirk a little smile for the mention of throw pillows. Hattie might murmur something about the smith and the shoes, something about needing to know his name so she can drop very subtle hints one day to wind the poor fellow up. Most of it might even be inaudible. If she closes her eyes whilst she leans, well, maybe he won't notice or maybe she'll protest that even very busy people need a nap now and then and that's the /only/ reason she's sitting there so close and with her eyes shut. Plus, body heat and all those cliches. When she eventually has to leave his arms - since those parcels aren't going to deliver themselves - the kiss comes out of nowhere and there's an edge to it, like she's trying to convey everything she can't say. Yet she /can/ say, "Don't screw up," low as she goes to find Elaruth, and she will turn up for dinner.
Where: Herb garden
When: Lunchtime on day 23, month 9, turn 19
What: W'ton and Hattie talk. W'ton is very manly despite mentioning slipcovers and brocade. Hattie needs her hair fixed.
Since autumn means winter is just around the corner there's plenty of people looking for excuses to be outdoors before it requires several layers of clothes to not freeze when there. Noontime sun has the temperature high enough that not even a light coat is required. As a matter of fact, at least for W'ton, it's warm enough that his shirt sleeves are rolled up as he enjoys his lunch on a bench in the garden. Eating alone he looks up to smile whenever someone passes without inviting anyone to sit.
Known never to do lunch at normal hours, to see Hattie tearing through somewhere at this time with her focus not entirely on her surroundings can't be an uncommon sight. This lunchtime, she's got an assortment of parcels tied together and slung over one shoulder, her gaze fixed on the notepad in her hand and a pen lodged somewhere in the explosion her hair has turned out to be today. A pen that she's searching for whilst trying not to make it obvious that she's lost it somewhere in those frizzy waves, which means she's just tugging her hair out of her eyes or tightening the band that holds some of it up or retying the ribbons - yes, ribbons - that are laced through it, just as she passes by the bench W'ton is sat on.
"Pretty sure," W'ton says when he looks up a the sound of footprints and sees who it is, "That they allow you to take a break every now and again." He sets his plate full of raw vegetables a few pieces of cheese aside so he can stand up. "As a matter of fact I'm pretty sure they're encouraged, Hattie. You don't have to be moving all the time so people know you're doing what you should." There's a quiet clucking sound in the back of his throat before he gestures to the bench. "You must at least sit and let me fix your hair."
Since she wasn't moving all that slow, when Hattie swings round at the sound of the bronzerider's voice, a combination of momentum gained and weight of parcels sends her stumbling off balance and backwards a few paces. And the pen falls out of her hair. She doesn't flail, since that would be quite undignified, and once she's steady again she blinks a couple of times as she belatedly processes all those words. "You're such a woman," is what she comes out with in return. "Should I be worried?" Despite that, she takes a step or two back in the right direction. "A break? What's that?" But the string of parcels get set down and she starts staring around for wherever the pen fell.
What he doesn't do is lunge forward to try to catch her when she stumbles. Instead W'ton lets her right herself although once she has he looks her over carefully to be sure somehow she didn't break. "Hey, next time I can be all manly and just tell you to drop the work because that's for men and that you should strip for me?" The question is asked with a laugh although there's a more thoughtful tone to his, "You know, that last part's not bad. We could go to my weyr." But he doesn't try to toss her over his shoulder or anything. What he does do is point to her left where the pen landed just off the path. "A break is what makes sure you don't overdo it. You've got a lifetime of work ahead of you. No need to do it all now."
The pen is retrieved and lodged back in her hair - some people never learn - only for one of the blue ribbons to fall out this time. "What does the world have against me today?" Hattie exclaims as she bends to fetch the latest escapee back too. "No stripping," she remembers to say. "But the rest... later," is promised without much deviousness and without further argumentative remarks. "I've got a lifetime of work behind me too and I never got all that done. Odds are, I'll never get all this done either," she sighs, making a retreat to the bench to sit down for a minute. Just a minute.
"You do know there's more to life than work, yes?" W'ton asks with barely an acknowledgement of her promise. More important things to talk about than nakedness? How wrong! Once he's reseated he stretches his legs out in front of him. "You ever think maybe the world's trying to tell you take it a little easy?" There's hardly a touch of humor in his voice when he asks that. "You need to learn to slow down otherwise you're going to keep moving so fast someday you'll move right over the edge of a cliff and not even know until it's too late." Pausing he leans closer and lowers his voice, "And even you would not look good splattered at the bottom of a cliff."
Hattie turns her head towards him when he leans closer and declares, ever so seriously, "Elaruth would save me." It's impossible to tell whether that's absolute faith or just her being contrary. She keeps her voice as low as his when she says, "There's work and there's things around the edges. It's when you get too caught up in the edges that things start to get messy." There's a happy life philosophy. Whilst she speaks, one hand weaves the ribbon around the fingers of the other. "You slow down and somebody'll yank the rug out from under you so fast..." She presses her lips tight shut and shoves the rest of that aside; tries to calm a little and leave 'work mode' behind. "...You said you'd fix my hair," comes out as a quiet plea, voice soft instead of low.
"Well, I ain't work now am I?" W'ton says and he doesn't bother finishing the thought. "Turn around. Gimme your back." And then he reaches out to try to disentangle the ribbon from her fingers so when she does turn around he can sit sidewise on the bench and reach her hair with the ribbon in his lap. "So, you two all settled into your weyr? I was going to bring you a weyrwarming gift, but I wasn't sure what colors you'd done it in and all. Didn't want it to clash so you'd have to hide it away or something. Casual conversation!
Hattie peers back over her shoulder once she's settled to look him right in the eye. "Sometimes." Him being work. "But you ain't the edges either. You're..." She can't find something to complete that statement and the moment any vulnerability begins to drift into her eyes, she looks right back round to stare straight ahead, shoulders stiff and back suddenly rigid. "She likes it," the weyrling replies, clipped and overcompensating. "There's no real colour theme, but it's quite dark. I left it plain for days - didn't want to damage it. But eventually that just becomes stupid." Quiet. Quiet. More quiet. "Gedroth told Elaruth something about you and there being a lot of pink?"
A strand of hair is given a gentle tug as W'ton laughs. "I'll show you work later, missy." Missy. Even if she is a little older than him. Maybe he's just saying it be annoying. Before getting to work on her hair he leans forward to rest his chin on her shoulder. In her ear he says, "You figure out what I am you let me know. Otherwise I'll keep going with what I've decided." Chin up, lean back, get down to work. Since he has no hair there's no magically appearing comb or anything. But his finger start combing through her hair and it's clearly something he's had practice with judging by the way he manages to not tug her head back repeatedly. "Then color I shall bring!" he announces about her weyr. "Ahh. Gedroth was correct on that count. I got dared to put one of my lottery tickets in for the weyr that was painted pink. That's the one I got. It looks good if I do say so myself. I'd considered painting over it, but...well, then I'd be teased to no end and it's not like having pink walls threatens my manhood."
So many responses to him showing her work, so little time. So Hattie doesn't make any of them, only lets out a single exclamation of laughter that makes her shoulders twitch. She tilts her head a little and turns it so that she's looking out across her shoulder rather than back at him once again. "What have you decided?" she questions, a curious lilt to her voice. "A nice pink or a hideous pink? And I don't know about pink threatening your manhood, but over-decorating might. You've probably put everyone to shame with that already, am I right?" Awkward silence. "The decorating. Not... manhood." Silent. Still. "...I think I'll just shut up for the rest of the day."
"No, no!" W'ton says in a cheery voice with a hint of teasing in it. "Do go on about my manhood the rest of the day. Why, I can even give you a list of people to go do it in front of!" Again he tweaks her hair, but he doesn't stop for long because he has to finish combing it. Not that he goes too swiftly likely for fear she'll bolt away as soon as he's done. "The pink is nice though. A pale color. If it were hideous, dare or no, I'd not have tried for it I think. As for over decorating, nonsense. It's quite tasteful. Although I've plans for some new slipcovers for the couches and chairs when I've the marks to invest in some well patterned brocades." Was that a threat to his manhood? Who knows. Only after all that does he give an answer to her first asked question. "Why, I've decided I'm the reason you get up in the morning. Your center of the universe. Your reason for being. Excepting Elaruth, of course."
Hattie brings one hand up and covers her eyes with it. "I'm sitting here with a man who uses the words 'slipcovers' and 'brocades' in conversation and who is probably better at styling my hair than I am." Both hands drop heavily to her knees and she over-exaggerates slouching and slumping her shoulders. "What have I got myself into?" The world is ending, the sky is falling and yet she's still sitting there quite contentedly letting him sort out her mess of ribbons and frizz. Except the 'minute' has gone on for a while now and it's debatable whether she's staying because she thinks she's eventually going to look more presentable or because he's there. "Does that mean I can be the reason you get up in the morning?" she asks, staring right ahead, words taking a trip somewhere between the alleyways of downright improper.
There comes a point where his fingers stop moving and he stares at a ribbon. "Huh. Might have to cut this whole chunk of hair out," he teases with a laugh. "That'll teach you to wonder what's going on." But then he's back to working the ribbon out. "Well, I can belch more?" he offers. "Scratch myself? Talk about all the improper ways I want to wear you out at night?" Hey, she started it! Not that it was so bad what W’ton said. But, "You're the reason I get up several times a day, my dear," is quite past the alleys and welcome to Impropertown. Population him. "Spend the night tonight with me?" gets asked as the last ribbon is worked free. "Doesn't have to be my weyr, Hattie if that bothers you. I'd be happy to come to yours." Just in case there's some game going on he doesn't know about and there's a score or something to be kept. "I don't have to use all these ribbons again do I?" He sounds as if it would be a painful thing to do that when he fixes her hair.
"Cut my hair and it'll be the last thing you ever do," Hattie threatens, trying to glare back at him without moving her head all that much. Her gaze softens soon enough and she simply says, "Elaruth," to explain both ribbons and the question he posed before that. "Wanted me to wear ribbons. They don't have to go back in, no." Being that talk of ribbons allows time to think of answers to other things. "I don't mind your weyr or mine," she begins. "But she... I can't exactly hope she'll be asleep or distracted and I... don't want her overreacting. So mine is probably 'safest' unless you or Dasarth have objections." There's no attempt made to look at him during all of that and past bravado and teasing it's painfully obvious that she's not great at this sort of talk.
"Well, I always wanted to die in bed so I figure if I do cut your hair it'll be in bed," W'ton says all serious as the ribbons are smoothed out. "Ahh. Well, we mustn't let Elaruth down. I shall use some of them." But not all. He sorts out the best looking ones and makes sure their colors match to his satisfaction. "I've no objections at all. Hey, do you have a bath in your weyr?" Now he sounds excited about going to her place. So long as he gets the right answer. "Dasarth can always go to his own ledge for the night if he objects. Maybe we can get him to invite Elaruth since they both seem to like looking down so much." There's a trace of eagerness in his voice now though because...spending the night! Yay! "Tell you what," he teases around the excitement, "I'll save the really bizarre requests until she's all grown up then." Fingers go through her hair once more before he settles to work. The intricate braid he works on is slow work especially since a few ribbons are being worked into her hair at the same time. "How about you come have dinner with us and after dinner we can go to your place? I'd like for you to see what I've done."
"I have a bath," Hattie confirms. "We might even fit in it together." That's teasing and it's easy for her to sound a little wicked, easier than really talking about... anything else. "You have bizarre requests?" As if she ever doubted that. "Really bizarre requests?" She rolls her eyes. "I'll just have to barricade the weyr shut. Can't have any of that. Except then you'd probably yell them so loud the whole Weyr would hear." Talk of yelling makes her shut up again and stare down at the feet which aren't quite lodged completely in her mouth yet. "You never know, I could be worrying for nothing. She's getting on with the world a lot better these days," she murmurs. "She could just sit and chat and decide that Dasarth needs a cuddle." Joking? Avoiding any dinner and dessert euphemisms, she just nods. "Alright."
W'ton's going to be offering to do her hair more often if it gives her a way to talk without looking at him. Maybe she'll say lots more! "Don't have any bizarre requests actually, but I could ask around and see if I hear any that sound appealing?" Then he's letting out a loud contented sigh. "A bath. Your own bath. I am going to be jealous forever of that. Do you mind if I borrow it sometime?" Pausing for a second he adds, "I don't even need you in there. Not that I won't mind you joining me, but sometimes I miss having my own bath. I'll even wash your hair." Well, why not? He's braiding it so might as well take care of it since she can't! "Dasarth likes her fine. And his ledge is big enough for them both. I imagine they'll have to sit mighty close when they're all grown up to still fit, but that's ok. That just means you won't be able to escape when I've lured you up there."
"Braiding and washing my hair. What's next, painting each other's toenails?" Finally, Hattie turns round properly and maybe just hopes he's got the end of that braid secure. "/Please/ tell me you don't have any of that polish stuff," she pleads over-dramatically, with hands reaching as though to grip his shirt. "Between all this and the brocades, I might just have to cry," she threatens. "And just for that, maybe I'll /never/ go in the bath with you. But sure. As long as I don't schedule a meeting with someone someday and they end up finding you in my bath. No matter how polite I try to be, I don't think there'd be any explaining that away."
"They'd just die of jealousy," W'ton says of the imaginary person who might wander in on him in nothing but bubbles. "I'll have Dasarth check with Elaruth how about that?" All the while his hand's been holding the end of her braid with enough slack to not tug at her when she turns her head. "But, no. I do not polish my nails, sweetheart. The not-braid-holding-hand is shown to her. Calloused, rough, fine looking nails, but no polish. "Besides we ain't washing each other's hair cause I got none remember? But if you don't want my help with this stuff just say so. I'm just trying to-" Frowning for a moment he shakes his head. "Shells, I don't know. I thought this was what I was supposed to be doing? Making things easier for you and reminding you of things you forget in your hurry to do everything and be everywhere. Besides I like taking care of you. It ain't just sex for me."
"Never said anything about washing your hair," the goldrider protests. If he inhabits Impropertown on occasion, she's renting something over there in Ineptville. Maybe they share a common border. Hattie stares for a moment, mirth draining from her expression and leaving her looking a little forlorn. "...I'm only... kidding..." she struggles to say, now drifting somewhere between determined not-upset and generally embarrassed. There's far too much weakness on display, so she looks away and retreats. For a girl with such a mouth on her, silence might be better, yet for her it only seems worse and as seconds pass by she just can't find anything to say. Even then she pretends that the silence is intentional and tries to find something in the distance to focus on.
"Drat. Now I guess I won't grow that bushy old beard in," W'ton says as he uses the last ribbon that passes muster to tie off the braid. He gives it a gentle tug to be sure it's all secure. "Hey, shhh. Hattie, it's fine. Sometimes I don't know what to say." Let her look away though because it just makes it easier for him to scoot closer to her on the bench and wrap his arms around her waist. If she wants to sit in silence he's going to do it like that with a place for her to lean back if she wants. "I know," he says eventually after giving the top of her head a kiss, "That I seem like I'm the most amazing thing...well, you know, I am, but that's not what I am saying. I guess I just...I know I'm gonna screw something up with us eventually and I just want you to know when it happens that I didn't mean to. That you're important to me." He doesn't let silence linger that long before he kisses the top of her head again and grins. "Now, you just sit right there because I've got to tell you what happened last night when I was in stores looking for throw pillows." There he goes being girly again, but he's got a silly story to tell her about mistaken identity and the wrong sheets and a very embarrassed smith who may have been wearing women's shoes. Long and somewhat rambling to keep her still a little longer likely knowing she's going to leave at any minute now.
She'll sit and listen and lean and even quirk a little smile for the mention of throw pillows. Hattie might murmur something about the smith and the shoes, something about needing to know his name so she can drop very subtle hints one day to wind the poor fellow up. Most of it might even be inaudible. If she closes her eyes whilst she leans, well, maybe he won't notice or maybe she'll protest that even very busy people need a nap now and then and that's the /only/ reason she's sitting there so close and with her eyes shut. Plus, body heat and all those cliches. When she eventually has to leave his arms - since those parcels aren't going to deliver themselves - the kiss comes out of nowhere and there's an edge to it, like she's trying to convey everything she can't say. Yet she /can/ say, "Don't screw up," low as she goes to find Elaruth, and she will turn up for dinner.