"Once again, you're suffering under the delusion that I give a shit about you, Bloom," she said, an undercurrent of polite, 'haha, you made a funny'; the sort of laughter one supplies when a toddler cracks a joke. "No pretensions of being Martha Stewart and or Mrs Brady. Just hate seeing good work wasted and incidentally, if you ever need a lawyer? Please forget there's apparently a way of contacting me. I don't ever want a phone call asking me to attend the police station." The implied 'I would be wasting my time' fell into the pause between the two of them.
She sipped her tea with an elegance that had been studied, but so long ago it was now habit. "Why does the entirity of this insane little cult I appear to have fallen into have an obsession with which storybook they came from?"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah." She was far more preoccupied with her empty plate than worrying about some bullshit bleeding heart's opinion of her. Whatever. Politics was for retards and terminators, she didn't give two flying fucks over that shit and HELL WOULD FUCKING FREEZE OVER before she become one of those MENTAL RETARDENTS that thought they could 'change the world' and 'find peace'. She'd rather relocate to Mexico. "More cake." A pause. "I haven't eaten anything today." The bold faced lie was coupled with a pityful pout; a look that was destroyed when the woman mentioned taledom.
"You're a fuc-" A deep breath to hold on to her senses. "You're a modern. You'd weren't MAULED TO FUC-" Almost spitting out the words, she had to shut her eyes in order to re-gain composure. Count to ten. Think of something nice. Running over someone's dog. That would do it. "You don't get it."
Gray's look of composure was perfect, completed only by the slight pause as she sipped her tea.
"Apparently not. Although psychological problems based on past lives isn't my forte either." She smiled sweetly at Rose, a danger signal if ever there was one. "If you haven't eaten today, you shouldn't be eating cake. Liver, perhaps. Raise those iron deposits. Or perhaps a salad. I'm sure they can find something nutritious in the kitchen."
"How you can viscerally hate someone you haven't met yet is beyond me," Gray went on, setting down her tea-cup and folding her hands together. "Far better to put all that emotion to use."
Psychological problems? Liver? Emotions to use? WHAT WAS THIS FUCKING MADNESS? This was the Waldorf, NOT FUCKING SPARTA. Hand gripped tightly around the glass cup before her, it was a near miracle the handle hadn't snapped off, her fingers turning white as she clenched the china-wear to stop herself throwing the thing towards the head of an unsuspecting waiter.
Anger control problems? The dwarf? Never.
"Tell me that when two blond BIT- things cut off your beard, steal your treasure, and then FEED YOU to an OVERSIZED BEAVER." She didn't know. She didn't fucking KNOW what it was like to spend TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY FUCKING YEARS dying a premature death to exact RIGHTFUL FUCKING REVENGE. "Spent two-hundred-and-fifty years. Got whacked by my own librarians, been a pimp, prostitute, Nazi, bloody fish monger. And this is." Stopping and starting sentences, unable to properly explain the need and lust for revenge, where the dwarf ended and Rose began was difficult to tell as her face took on an ugly look that was reserved solely for
( ... )
"Breathe," Gray made the mild suggestion, reaching out to see if perhaps she could save the china from Rose's rage. Her ex-client was turning practically purple. It was unnerving, and somewhat worrying that she was that caught up in her storybook past.
"Use your words. Think your sentences through." Although, really, getting murdered by the librarians? That didn't sound at all... well. Legal. "That happened a very long time ago. To someone who wasn't you." Why yes, reasoning with Rose probably wasn't the least bit useful. But she could try.
That was the problem. Rose COULDN'T separate herself from the dwarf. She was him, he was her, and everything he'd experienced through his multitude of reincarnations, SHE took personally. And whilst the Dwarf could hardly be blamed for the slop-bucket of crude and lewd that was her glimmering personality, there was something to be said for the fact that her almost psychotic ragings? Might not be so predominant were she able to move past the bearded midget. Hypothetical situations aside, however, pushing her chair back, it was time to leave. Go back home, where she could throw things to her heart's content and calm down watching vapid sluts on reality TV.
If Gray had a choice, it would not be to squire ex-clients around to very expensive tea-rooms, and be subjected to the misplaced ire of someone severely out of touch with the line between reality and reincarnation. Unfortunately, she would largely direct any and all queries as to why she felt it necessary toward Rose herself. Someone needed to influence her, and the severe indulgence of the girl she had thus far encountered was horrifying. If only because Rose was worse than she had been four years ago.
"Too much to hope for manners," she observed now, sitting back politely, ankles crossed - ladylike. Not crossed at the knee, never in a skirt. "Fine. Leave. I'm tired of you." The girl dismissed summarily, Gray concentrated on the tea itself.
( ... )
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"Once again, you're suffering under the delusion that I give a shit about you, Bloom," she said, an undercurrent of polite, 'haha, you made a funny'; the sort of laughter one supplies when a toddler cracks a joke. "No pretensions of being Martha Stewart and or Mrs Brady. Just hate seeing good work wasted and incidentally, if you ever need a lawyer? Please forget there's apparently a way of contacting me. I don't ever want a phone call asking me to attend the police station." The implied 'I would be wasting my time' fell into the pause between the two of them.
She sipped her tea with an elegance that had been studied, but so long ago it was now habit. "Why does the entirity of this insane little cult I appear to have fallen into have an obsession with which storybook they came from?"
Reply
"You're a fuc-" A deep breath to hold on to her senses. "You're a modern. You'd weren't MAULED TO FUC-" Almost spitting out the words, she had to shut her eyes in order to re-gain composure. Count to ten. Think of something nice. Running over someone's dog. That would do it. "You don't get it."
Reply
"Apparently not. Although psychological problems based on past lives isn't my forte either." She smiled sweetly at Rose, a danger signal if ever there was one. "If you haven't eaten today, you shouldn't be eating cake. Liver, perhaps. Raise those iron deposits. Or perhaps a salad. I'm sure they can find something nutritious in the kitchen."
"How you can viscerally hate someone you haven't met yet is beyond me," Gray went on, setting down her tea-cup and folding her hands together. "Far better to put all that emotion to use."
Reply
Anger control problems? The dwarf? Never.
"Tell me that when two blond BIT- things cut off your beard, steal your treasure, and then FEED YOU to an OVERSIZED BEAVER." She didn't know. She didn't fucking KNOW what it was like to spend TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY FUCKING YEARS dying a premature death to exact RIGHTFUL FUCKING REVENGE. "Spent two-hundred-and-fifty years. Got whacked by my own librarians, been a pimp, prostitute, Nazi, bloody fish monger. And this is." Stopping and starting sentences, unable to properly explain the need and lust for revenge, where the dwarf ended and Rose began was difficult to tell as her face took on an ugly look that was reserved solely for ( ... )
Reply
"Use your words. Think your sentences through." Although, really, getting murdered by the librarians? That didn't sound at all... well. Legal. "That happened a very long time ago. To someone who wasn't you." Why yes, reasoning with Rose probably wasn't the least bit useful. But she could try.
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"Done here. Bye."
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"Too much to hope for manners," she observed now, sitting back politely, ankles crossed - ladylike. Not crossed at the knee, never in a skirt. "Fine. Leave. I'm tired of you." The girl dismissed summarily, Gray concentrated on the tea itself.
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