Damon spotted the crazy chick a moment before she smiled at him. What was it about redheads being off their blessed heads? Who, exactly, did she think she was here? Maria Von Trapp? Damon smiled back nonetheless. At the very least, she might be funny crazy instead of sad crazy. He could do with a bit of that right now. Not to mention a distraction.
With all the grandeur of Italian nobility, he stepped back with one foot, bowing to her with a crisp, sweeping gesture of his hand. "Buon pomeriggio, giovane e bellissima cosa." Gadzooks. If he were a woman, he'd kiss himself. "Good afternoon."
"It is a pleasure to meet you, bellissima," he said smoothly, straightening up. Damon reached out, taking one of her hands and kissing her knuckles. "Penny?" An American with a good, American name. And crazy to boot. Always fun. "Yes, I am new here. Relatively." He paused. "Hard to tell how long I've been here, with all the time shifts, but it seems like I've only been here a little while."
He glanced at the baskets. "Running errands?" What kind of errands could she really be running? Groceries? Laundry? God, he missed supermarkets and department stores.
Damon answered by picking up one of the baskets with practiced ease. It would have been heavy for a waif-like human, such as the crazy redhead, but it was nothing to him. "Lead the way," he said, gesturing grandly. "And thank you ever so much for the welcome."
He debated how to answer her question. "I'm from Florence originally," he decided at last. "Been in America long enough to speak English properly. But..." he flashed her a smile that was charming and sexy. "If-a you like-a, I can-a put on-a my Italian accent."
"It's nothing," he said. Perhaps the most sincere thing he had said to her yet. "What kind of run do you mean, exactly? Food run?" He shifted the basket a little under his arm, trying to get a sense of exactly what he was carrying. She was crazy, but probably not crazy enough to fill the baskets with something interesting like eyeballs or snakes or that plastic stuff that you find in the bottom of an Easter basket.
What was that called?
Shrugging it off, he continued walking. He half anticipated what she was going to say. She was probably an insufferable do-gooder. Which, all things considered, was a bit unique in this singularly unusual place.
Oh God. He was going to be sick. He had called that one, certainly. Insufferable do-gooder. He was going to have to find a way to screw with her at some point. He didn't really know why he wanted to, but he was just so ridiculously bored.
He could always turn her.
"Aren't you sweet?" was all he said on the matter. And he said it in his most charming and charismatic tone of voice.
"Where are you from? Wait. Let me guess." He made an exaggerated show of looking her up and down, trying to be more comical than lewd. Not that there was much to leer at. "I'm getting a west coast vibe here. The pale skin suggests Seattle, but the red hair throws that into question." He wiggled his fingers like a Las Vegas magician. "Let's go with...San Francisco?"
How the hell did this pure little angel come out of that cesspool? Damon decided just to chalk it up to multiple timelines or whatever the hell it was called. That was the easiest explanation and the one that required the least thought and effort.
"I'm right behind you," he answered to her summons.
Damon watched the munchkins with a sense of detached amusement. Some things never changed, no matter the time or place. And one thing that never changed was the way that human women, in general, responded to small children. There were only two steadfast options. They either ran toward them, or away from them. Clearly, Penny was the type that ran toward.
"Looks like you have a fan club," he called over to Penny, taking a loaf of bread out of his basket. Ripping off a third, he tossed it into the throng, watching the children go after it like ducks chasing breadcrumbs. Fingernails always made such skirmishes more entertaining.
If nothing else, Penny had gained a new interest for Damon. She was clearly known by the natives, which meant she knew them. Which meant she would know who he had to be most careful around. "How long have you been doing this?"
(The comment has been removed)
With all the grandeur of Italian nobility, he stepped back with one foot, bowing to her with a crisp, sweeping gesture of his hand. "Buon pomeriggio, giovane e bellissima cosa." Gadzooks. If he were a woman, he'd kiss himself. "Good afternoon."
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
He glanced at the baskets. "Running errands?" What kind of errands could she really be running? Groceries? Laundry? God, he missed supermarkets and department stores.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
He debated how to answer her question. "I'm from Florence originally," he decided at last. "Been in America long enough to speak English properly. But..." he flashed her a smile that was charming and sexy. "If-a you like-a, I can-a put on-a my Italian accent."
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
What was that called?
Shrugging it off, he continued walking. He half anticipated what she was going to say. She was probably an insufferable do-gooder. Which, all things considered, was a bit unique in this singularly unusual place.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
He could always turn her.
"Aren't you sweet?" was all he said on the matter. And he said it in his most charming and charismatic tone of voice.
"Where are you from? Wait. Let me guess." He made an exaggerated show of looking her up and down, trying to be more comical than lewd. Not that there was much to leer at. "I'm getting a west coast vibe here. The pale skin suggests Seattle, but the red hair throws that into question." He wiggled his fingers like a Las Vegas magician. "Let's go with...San Francisco?"
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
How the hell did this pure little angel come out of that cesspool? Damon decided just to chalk it up to multiple timelines or whatever the hell it was called. That was the easiest explanation and the one that required the least thought and effort.
"I'm right behind you," he answered to her summons.
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
"Looks like you have a fan club," he called over to Penny, taking a loaf of bread out of his basket. Ripping off a third, he tossed it into the throng, watching the children go after it like ducks chasing breadcrumbs. Fingernails always made such skirmishes more entertaining.
If nothing else, Penny had gained a new interest for Damon. She was clearly known by the natives, which meant she knew them. Which meant she would know who he had to be most careful around. "How long have you been doing this?"
Reply
(The comment has been removed)
Reply
Leave a comment