{Closed} She doesn't want to be Respected
WHO: Kuja and the Madam
WHAT: Inquiring whether his 'talents' could earn him a new profession
WHERE: The Husband's Alley
WHEN: Mid-afternoon, after her introductory post
*~*~*~*
Sometimes 'being yourself' is overrated
He had spent the latter portion of the evening curled up on the window sill in a crisp dress shirt he had pilfered from Balthier's wardrobe. His two housemates were busy being the bounty hunters they proclaimed they were, and enjoying it too, it seemed.
Kuja had stood in front of his mirror naked, scrutinizing himself. He was furious he looked this way, questioning himself and demanding why couldn't he just dress as his gender dictated so he could blend in. For a moment he contemplated gathering his lovely hair and shearing it all short with a blade so it would stop lending his face an effeminate image.
But this was who he was, and through the frustrated tears he had found his laughter and laughed cheerily at how silly he had been. He loved being this way. This 'lie' was his life and one had to accept it or simply make an enemy of him.
So the next day he curled his tresses with hot tongs and slipped into a lovely ensemble of black cotton and a red satin corset with a trailing bustle. He spent a good amount of time pampering himself and preening himself to perfection. It would not do, of course, if his image ruined her first impressions.
Armed with a black lace parasol and a mightily devious twist to his lacquered crimson lips, Kuja set off down the Husband's Alley. Ready to smile and flatter the lovely woman in charge of the establishment.
A place he'd feel at home in, being adored for who he was.
"May I speak to the Madam?"
WHAT: Inquiring whether his 'talents' could earn him a new profession
WHERE: The Husband's Alley
WHEN: Mid-afternoon, after her introductory post
*~*~*~*
Sometimes 'being yourself' is overrated
He had spent the latter portion of the evening curled up on the window sill in a crisp dress shirt he had pilfered from Balthier's wardrobe. His two housemates were busy being the bounty hunters they proclaimed they were, and enjoying it too, it seemed.
Kuja had stood in front of his mirror naked, scrutinizing himself. He was furious he looked this way, questioning himself and demanding why couldn't he just dress as his gender dictated so he could blend in. For a moment he contemplated gathering his lovely hair and shearing it all short with a blade so it would stop lending his face an effeminate image.
But this was who he was, and through the frustrated tears he had found his laughter and laughed cheerily at how silly he had been. He loved being this way. This 'lie' was his life and one had to accept it or simply make an enemy of him.
So the next day he curled his tresses with hot tongs and slipped into a lovely ensemble of black cotton and a red satin corset with a trailing bustle. He spent a good amount of time pampering himself and preening himself to perfection. It would not do, of course, if his image ruined her first impressions.
Armed with a black lace parasol and a mightily devious twist to his lacquered crimson lips, Kuja set off down the Husband's Alley. Ready to smile and flatter the lovely woman in charge of the establishment.
A place he'd feel at home in, being adored for who he was.
"May I speak to the Madam?"