first entrance 2.0
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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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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"It is relatively new," says the guy who's been a patron for five years.
Cautiously.
Pretty much only Puck speaks to him in that particular tone, and it took a good while before he wasn't mildly confused by that.
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For Aphrodite, there are very few interactions that can't be turned into flirtation, and this one is assuredly no exception. Even though what she's thinking, aside from this-guy-is-pretty, is primarily concerned with exactly how long it's been around here since she was here.
Milliways always makes you think about stuff like this. 'Dite sucks at math.
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"A year or two?" he says. He hadn't paid much attention when it appeared, apart from noting the new territory. "Thereabouts."
...This is one of those small talk situations, isn't it?
"Have you been away much longer?"
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If he weren't, you know, sputtering enragedly at scantily clad Olympian hussies goddesses.
"Oh, God."
Aphrodite laughs, neck tilting back just for a moment to expose a long and elegant throat. She recovers relatively quickly, but her eyes still sparkle in amusement.
"It's been more than twenty, for me. This place!"
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She doesn't look old enough for that length of time, really - unless she is speaking about time spent here as a child. But somehow he doesn't think so, when she could be one of the other-than-human crowd.
(Which would explain something about why watching her laugh is so enjoyable, when ordinarily he might have been too busy analysing her tone of voice or watching for danger.
He's doing both, instead.)
"Quite a time," he says politely.
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And begins to walk towards him up the beach. There is nothing deliberately alluring about the swing of her hips or the articulation of her feet on the sand; Aphrodite finds that, particularly in the modern era, subtlety is everything. The brazen and the Playboy Bunnies have a sort of meretricious appeal, but she's a goddess of beauty, not just sex. There are certain standards.
Besides. She's already got the bikini.
"Aren't you awfully hot?" she asks, looking him up and down with sympathy.
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Although considering that Havelock comes from a city where women are completely covered from neck to toes at all times, the subtlety may have been lost a little in translation.
Still. Milliways will challenge your boundaries every day.
"It's cold by the rest of the lake," he says, nodding in the direction of the boundary.
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She glances down at herself with a faintly rueful expression.
"That's going to be a fun walk."
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"How did you get out here?" he asks.
Presumably not just wearing that.
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"I walked."
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"How very novel," he says, dry but not without interest.
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"On the contrary," she says, "mister ...?"
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