Vincent talks in silences more than in words.
Trying/failing to write like spiderflower again.
Moving into the Shrina mansion was one of her best ideas ever, Yuffie congratulates herself as she perches on the edge of her bathtub. Her cats immediately claimed the empty house as their territory and Vincent Valentine is unable to catch them all and force them into destitution - she is his official roommate now, whether he likes it or not (she suspects or not), and shivers as lightning-pleasure run up her spine when she announces that she's living - yes, living - under the same roof and everything with him (he's in the basement, she has the second floor, but these are details and ninjas don't give a flying fuck about details).
She's sitting on the tub, clipping her toenails, when Vincent Valentine makes his entrance. She hasn't bothered to lock her doors, and today she hasn't even closed it all the way, so they're both surprised when he stares at her nudity.
"I'm cutting my nails," she explains lamely, because she's nineteen now, but she might as well be twelve, all the good old age has done her. Having finished her shower, she danced herself to dryness rather than bother with a towel (which she hasn't washed in forever and the pink flowers on it look more like splotches of death), and thus is so nude that she puts the Honey Bee Inn to shame. Naked as the day she was born, and about as wise, too.
"Get dressed," Vincent instructs her, definitely not looking at her boobs (why would he be looking there - Lucrecia's were much rounder). "I've found something." He doesn't leave, even though he's reached his word-quota for the day (for the century), because apparently she can turn men to stone with a single appearence of the nipples. The petrification shatters an instant after that though, and Vincent looks idly at her wet hair before sliding out the room, taking the mist and her dignity with him.
"I'm not done with my nails!" She hollers after him, because she can't think about what just happened. "I only did one foot! My left toenails are like daggers and I'm going to sneak up with you and plunge them into your tender flesh and do you think that vampires can be killed by a toenail to the heart?"
He comes back with an armful of her clothes and dumps them on the wet tiles. "I'm not a vampire," he artfully dodges her rhetorical question and then artfully turns his back to her and artfully waltzes away.
"Pervert!" She hollers again and then hopes she has an incurable disease and dies within the next five minutes.
Moving into the Shrina mansion was one of her best ideas ever, Yuffie congratulates herself as she perches on the edge of her bathtub. Her cats immediately claimed the empty house as their territory and Vincent Valentine is unable to catch them all and force them into destitution - she is his official roommate now, whether he likes it or not (she suspects or not), and shivers as lightning-pleasure run up her spine when she announces that she's living - yes, living - under the same roof and everything with him (he's in the basement, she has the second floor, but these are details and ninjas don't give a flying fuck about details).
She's sitting on the tub, clipping her toenails, when Vincent Valentine makes his entrance. She hasn't bothered to lock her doors, and today she hasn't even closed it all the way, so they're both surprised when he stares at her nudity.
"I'm cutting my nails," she explains lamely, because she's nineteen now, but she might as well be twelve, all the good old age has done her. Having finished her shower, she danced herself to dryness rather than bother with a towel (which she hasn't washed in forever and the pink flowers on it look more like splotches of death), and thus is so nude that she puts the Honey Bee Inn to shame. Naked as the day she was born, and about as wise, too.
"Get dressed," Vincent instructs her, definitely not looking at her boobs (why would he be looking there - Lucrecia's were much rounder). "I've found something." He doesn't leave, even though he's reached his word-quota for the day (for the century), because apparently she can turn men to stone with a single appearence of the nipples. The petrification shatters an instant after that though, and Vincent looks idly at her wet hair before sliding out the room, taking the mist and her dignity with him.
"I'm not done with my nails!" She hollers after him, because she can't think about what just happened. "I only did one foot! My left toenails are like daggers and I'm going to sneak up with you and plunge them into your tender flesh and do you think that vampires can be killed by a toenail to the heart?"
He comes back with an armful of her clothes and dumps them on the wet tiles. "I'm not a vampire," he artfully dodges her rhetorical question and then artfully turns his back to her and artfully waltzes away.
"Pervert!" She hollers again and then hopes she has an incurable disease and dies within the next five minutes.