She steps out onto the sun-drenched Caribbean shore, delicately formed feet leaving equally delicate prints in the sand to mark her passage. Her skin is smooth and glowing, her limbs long and well shaped, and in bygone days, she might have worn only a garland of flowers to cover herself, or perhaps a strip of gauze
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Comments 207
Aphrodite, among her manifold other talents, knows how to make an entrance.
Trowa, at a table not far from the bar, notes with (impassive) interest the reactions of the better part of the room. And the way the woman in the bikini greets those reactions as her due.
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Aphrodite breathes in deeply, head tilting back, and surveys the room.
Bars are always a great place for meetings, sparks, trysts, innuendo-- and this place has them all beat, if for nothing but sheer diversity (not to mention percentage of serious cuties).
What catches her interest about Trowa is not his face so much as the expression on his face. She returns his regard with curiosity.
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Which does differentiate him from the vast majority of bar patrons at the moment, it's true.
Trowa is not unaware of this fact -- but he's never been much good at faking expressions, and he sees no particular reason to try just now. Instead, after a moment, he has a sip of his coffee (black, decaf, one sugar), which might (if Aphrodite chooses to take it that way) include a slight nod of acknowledgment.
Trowa's efficient that way. Also: ambiguous that way.
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But this guy may as well have flatlined.
"Bar, honey!" she exclaims. "It's been too long. Can you get me a mojito?"
The drink arrives in an elegant, green-tinted glass, and Aphrodite turns to face Trowa as she takes it up.
"Hey."
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But she never forgets one like his.
"Ganymede."
She whips off her sunglasses, beginning to smile faintly.
"Hey, sweetie."
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She looks him up and down, and her expression softens once more.
"You're looking good."
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(Just think of it as having all your feathers plucked out.)
. . . well, that's a lie. She notices it a little.
"Gosh, that's a pretty color!" she says admiringly. Duck likes shiny things!
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"Thanks!" she says.
"I like your outfit too."
The duck pants are adorable! Too few girls these days know how to accessorize age-appropriately.
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Duck's face lights up in an enormous beaming grin.
"Thank you!"
No one's ever told Duck they liked her clothes before! For . . . obvious reasons . . .
"I'm Duck!" she says, and bobs her head in something between an enthusiastic nod and a polite bow. "It's nice to meet you!"
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"I'm Aphrodite," she says, generously, and gives a gracious nod in return.
Duck can know her identity! Why not, right?
"It's wonderful here by the water, isn't it?" The word 'wonderful' is drawn out and savored.
'Dite really does love it.
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Leo blinks very slowly. "Ah. Ah, hello."
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"... Hello."
What a little dish! It's not nice to poke at cute boys at the end of the universe, but Aphrodite's not exactly a nice girl.
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"Are you new, Miss?"
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"Not exactly," she says, coyly.
"But it's been awhile. Nice to meet you, Mr ...?"
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It does mean that the temperature abruptly becomes uncomfortable when he goes from the chilly Scottish lake shore to the Carribean beach, and he slows down a little.
(Dressing all in black does give you an unfortunate tendancy towards heatstroke.)
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Aphrodite plucks off her shades and lets them dangle from the glimmering string at one hip as she takes him in.
... God, Milliways is cute boy central.
"Hey there."
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(The outfit recieves a blink, but he's been coming here long enough not to consider it improper any more. People do wear such things to swim in, occasionally even as... small as hers.)
"Good morning," he says.
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It's hard to overestimate the innuendo lacing that greeting. Just as it's hard to underestimate the amount of fabric currently on her body!
She glances left to right.
"I don't think this was here the last time I was ..."
A look up to Havelock, as if to say isn't that funny.
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