(Untitled)

[iownmarcello]

And with more than a little ceremony, the next new arrival strides onto the deck. She's pretty and knows it and she walks with a confident swagger as she casts her head upwards, her hair cascading back along her dramatic red gown.

"Won't someone assist me?"

Typist: *bandwagon yay* Musetta from La Bohéme

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[musettasbitch]

"....No. No, no, no, not you, I will not believe it!" Here, Musetta, have a scowly Marcello.

[musettasbitch]

He takes her arm reluctantly, scowling. "No, I would not. I would just wish for you to remain away from me."

[iownmarcello]

"Hush your noise and take my arm. Aid me from my toils and we shall speak again."

[musettasbitch]

"I dream of that day," he says drily, leading her into the shade. "Rooms are down that way." There's a sharp gesture down the hall. "The kitchen is through there."

[iownmarcello]

"You dream of speaking to me? Of that I know, tell me something new. Be entertaining if you know how. Pull up a chair, there are many."

[musettasbitch]

He's still standing, turned to move back to his and Rodolfo's room. "Unfortunately, I have work to do. I'm sure you do too. Do enjoy getting your claws into the next unsuspecting male who passes by."

[iownmarcello]

And that's all but floored her. She stands, though shaky on her feet.

"You mean to say you're fleeing in my hour of need? What manor of man have you become? And such hurtful words, they harm me so."

[musettasbitch]

Feel free to note that he hasn't moved, even though he said he was leaving. "From taking them as compliments to insults? Admirable, my dear, I applaud your ingenuity." He gives her an almost-mocking bow.

"I shall stay, I can sketch just as well here." And with that, he pulls a sketchpad out of his pocket and sits, frowning at it.

[iownmarcello]

"I pride myself on my fortitude, Monsieur. Sit and do what you must and worry me less, we both shall be more comfortable you have my assurances."

And a pause.

"What are you drawing?"

[musettasbitch]

"I do not doubt it, Musetta." He looks up from the pad, fiddling a bit with the charcoal in his hand.

"Nothing terribly exciting. Studies of Rodolfo."

[iownmarcello]

"Rodolfo?" She says with a hint of some amusement. "How is he fairing now? Recovered from such a weight?"

[musettasbitch]

"He is -- as he ever is." There's a small smile. "Glad of the free food, as am I."

[iownmarcello]

That smile doesn't go unnoticed. It's noted.

"Free food? Whatever next. Surely there is some mystery benefactor, gone mad through the heat that he has expunged all remnants of sanity to throw his money at naught but strangers.!

[musettasbitch]

He turns back to his sketchpad, glancing at Musetta from time to time. Yes, he is sketching her.

"Apparently not. It's just free, and we have eaten well since arriving here, I promise you."

[iownmarcello]

"I shall believe it when I see it. Though you look better than usual, less likely to collapse from hunger, at least." And that is a compliment, if a backhanded one.

[musettasbitch]

"Look in the kitchen, and you shall see." He's paying attention to his sketches now. That one of Musetta is getting more defined, capturing her seated on that chair in all her glory.

"I -- thank you, ma chere." And there's a slight smile before he turns back to the paper.