(Untitled)
Who: swordofthenorth & applelimber
When: Tonight
Where: The Foxhole
Format: Action
What: Isley makes good on his promise to visit her fine establishment.
Warnings: Let's hope not! (It would be sure to be violence.)
( An apple a day keeps the abyssals away...or not. )
When: Tonight
Where: The Foxhole
Format: Action
What: Isley makes good on his promise to visit her fine establishment.
Warnings: Let's hope not! (It would be sure to be violence.)
( An apple a day keeps the abyssals away...or not. )
[While not exactly invited, he is an expected guest this evening. The door has been left unlocked due to that, and he makes use of it, entering without a knock to announce himself-his yoki does a thorough enough job of that.]
[The bar is empty, which does not come as a surprise to the Abyssal One. Although it subtracts from the level of fun he can have here, he does not mind that Helen has opted to be the center of his attention, or in this case, the sole object of it.]
[She is detestable; he has always thought so, and without a doubt always will. Still, part of what he had said to her in private across the Network had been true. Priscilla would not benefit from them being at each other’s throats. Of course, neither would he, and that was most important of all, wasn’t it?]
[As he approaches the counter, he notes with a smile the strawberries that have been provided. Amusing considering that he had promised not to bother with Helen’s patrons if she made sure the fruit was readily available, yet she has still gone to all the effort to clear the establishment out. She is on guard tonight, even though he has come bearing a gift.]
[The large bag is set upon the countertop with a heavy rattle reminiscent of tiny bones.]
You appear hungry, Helen. It’s a good thing I’ve brought you something else to bite into.
Reply
[But there's still fear there too. A lot of it.]
[But mostly hate.]
No thanks. Think I just lost my appetite.
[Helen gives the half-eaten apple a toss towards the garbage before eyeing the bag on the counter warily.]
What the hell is that?
Reply
[Isley observes as Helen abandons her half-eaten apple, but he does not seem phased. Instead he undoes the string binding the bag he has set upon the counter and he smiles. The cheery expression is almost out of sorts upon his face, at least in her presence.]
I passed through the market on the way here. One of the shopkeepers was selling various types of nuts. They seemed an appropriate snack for a bar, so I bought some. They’re for you. Or, as your appetite appears to be failing, perhaps you can save them for your patrons. When they return, of course.
[He flashes a toothy smile before taking a seat opposite her, hands folding neatly before him upon the countertop.]
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[But there's a difference between liking trouble and being suicidal]
Uh huh. Thanks.
[She takes the bag, tries not to make a face at the rattle of them. Damned if it doesn't really sound like bones.]
Thought you'd brought Rooster a gift for a second. What's your poison?
[Because she needs a drink. But she kind of likes phrasing it that way for him.]
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[Meaning there would be a next time. Oh yes. And he seems to like implying as much, too.]
Red wine, if you have it. [Although he is certain that whatever she provides will lack the particular flavor he prefers. Can’t very well bottle and sell blood and guts if you want to remain an esteemed tavern, after all.]
And what will you be having? You seem the sort who possesses a less distinguished taste.
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[Helen says the word flatly. Somehow it's like the pot calling the kettle black.]
[She pours him a glass of wine and grits her teeth at his last words.]
You're insulting my taste?
[Really Isley? Really?]
I'm just having water, thanks.
Reply
[The word is repeated in affirmation, accompanied by conceit.]
[Drawing the glass of wine toward himself, he traces his finger along the outside rim. The glass hums delicately in response, a high-pitched keening whistle.]
It is not necessarily an insult to prefer that which is less cultivated, Helen. You must stop seeking insult in everything that I do and say. After all, I have come here bearing you no ill will-
[His finger upon the glass stops circling, and instantly he holds it up in the air as if to hush any words that might leap from her mouth.]
-and I’ll hear nothing of how I make you ill just by being near, do I make myself clear?
[The hand returns to the glass. The glass is raised to his lips, tipped, and sipped from. Once lowered, Isley breathes a heavy sigh and shuts his eyes.]
Some might say that water is tasteless, befitting a woman of your...inelegance. I feel that something astringent would be better suited to you, however.
Come, drink with me. Don’t be miserly, Helen. At least try and enjoy yourself. You might as well.
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[For spite now, as much as anything.]
You might be able to stroll right on in here and insult me, but I'll be damned if you'll make me enjoy it.
Reply
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