...13 I'm sorrybot_builderJune 16 2011, 18:41:43 UTC
[Rubs the back of his neck awkwardly and won't meet your eyes. How... how do people talk about things like this? He has no idea what to say, only that something needs to be said.]
ahh sorry i never got notifs for this thread!shesawaitressJune 20 2011, 13:40:15 UTC
[It's not that Tiana doesn't love her restaurant, but coming home to Rapunzel's smiling face ranks up there pretty high, too. She smiles at her, slipping her shoes off at the door.]
Daisy somehow manages to arrive next to him with no prior sign that she'd been anywhere in the vicinity. Even her Choo heels (authentic, there had been a reap last week with fantastic taste) have failed to click out a warning. It's as if she's managed to master those lost dead-people arts, seen only in TV cliche, of walking through walls and spectral apparition.
She hasn't, of course. That would be ridiculous. No, she just has perfect balance - why should she make a noise in heels?
"This is how it works. You make one grand gesture of contrition: flowers should be involved, no chocolates I'm on a sugar fast, although I will accept anything praline based, and henceforth treat me in the manner to which I have decided I should become accustomed, and I will be prepared to let the matter go without kicking you anywhere you deem necessary to sexual function. How does that sound?"
lkjasdf HOW DID I NOT GET THE NOTIF FOR THISdeadlikehimJune 20 2011, 13:46:02 UTC
Mason is used to Daisy appearing in places. If Mason weren't a reaper, and therefore already one of the biggest spooks walking the face of the planet, he'd be downright terrified of the way that she seems to be able to just show up at his elbow in the blink of an eye.
As it stands now, the ability is just frustrating: she always seems to just show up at the most inconvenient and/or embarrassing moments.
He cares for her a lot. Honestly, he does (and that's always been a little frightening for Mason - the fact that he cares about her -- and Rube and Roxy and Georgie, though it's always been different with Daisy in a way that's hard to explain), but right now he is in the middle of counting a handful of pills that are certainly illicit and only maybe a little dangerous.
He nearly drops them when she speaks.
"Praline-based. Praline-based I can certainly do, love, and flowers -- yellow ones, to go with your hair?" It's a hopeful guess, and he's gauging her reaction as he shoves the fistful of pills into his pocket.
LJ has been so evil lately.daisydidJune 20 2011, 14:16:58 UTC
"Never get a bouquet in just one colour, unless they're roses, orchids, or it's expensive enough to be a statement. And don't get daisies, it's not cute, it's not funny, it's lazy."
These are the teachings of Daisy, Daisy Adair. She's often thought about writing a book, but without a transcriber-slash-personal assistant the altruism of the endeavour hardly seems worth her while. Maybe she should recruit George. Then again, surliness is such an unattractive quality in an assistant.
Just like unsubtlety in a hopeless junkie.
"And I do hope, if those aren't Tylenol, that you're at least planning to sell them rather than take them. Puke on my shoes again and there won't be any second chances."
[This isn't how Franz wanted things to go. Then again, this whole thing with Kurt is entirely unexpected - a cliche, really. Things had fallen apart, both of them were single on Christmas - it just sort of happened. And now they're in Franz's favorite little cafe warming chapped hands with steaming mugs of coffee, and Kurt is entirely lovely with his cheeks all rosy and Franz doesn't want to have to do this. It's almost Valentine's day. Franz takes both of Kurt's hands in his. They're so close in skin tone - but Franz's constant ephermeral glow always makes him seem that much paler.]
Uneventful thus far. I have yet to head to the garage and get my hands dirty, so I suppose you caught me at just the right time.
[A very small, shaky smile. Franz seems--different somehow, far from his usual jovial, sardonic self.] And yours? Something's telling me it wasn't so good. Problems at work?
[Problems at work don't begin to describe it. Today had started off terribly, and gotten worse and worse. Franz always knew if he followed Raul into his ambitions for the NPP that they would face foul play and threats, but today was the first time he saw a true threat of it.]
Mr. Muggles died. He got sick. [Poisoned, and Franz always thought his apartment was secure, that he could trust his dog walker, that the locks were always safe. But someone had fillled the Pomeranian's bowl with antifreeze and Franz had been too tired returning home from work in the wee hours to notice he was unwell until it was too late.
The threat was obvious. The dog was, in a lot of ways, one of his oldest friends in Siren's Port. He had promised to take care of him for Claire, and now he's gone. Franz swallows hard.]
If... if I'm so busy with work I can't take care of my own dog, then I think.
I think we ought to end things here and now, before I end up neglecting you as well.
[Kurt will be next. Franz can sense it, like the
( ... )
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Er. Um. We need to talk. About last night.
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Welcome home!
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Thanks. And how was your day?
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Daisy somehow manages to arrive next to him with no prior sign that she'd been anywhere in the vicinity. Even her Choo heels (authentic, there had been a reap last week with fantastic taste) have failed to click out a warning. It's as if she's managed to master those lost dead-people arts, seen only in TV cliche, of walking through walls and spectral apparition.
She hasn't, of course. That would be ridiculous. No, she just has perfect balance - why should she make a noise in heels?
"This is how it works. You make one grand gesture of contrition: flowers should be involved, no chocolates I'm on a sugar fast, although I will accept anything praline based, and henceforth treat me in the manner to which I have decided I should become accustomed, and I will be prepared to let the matter go without kicking you anywhere you deem necessary to sexual function. How does that sound?"
Reply
As it stands now, the ability is just frustrating: she always seems to just show up at the most inconvenient and/or embarrassing moments.
He cares for her a lot. Honestly, he does (and that's always been a little frightening for Mason - the fact that he cares about her -- and Rube and Roxy and Georgie, though it's always been different with Daisy in a way that's hard to explain), but right now he is in the middle of counting a handful of pills that are certainly illicit and only maybe a little dangerous.
He nearly drops them when she speaks.
"Praline-based. Praline-based I can certainly do, love, and flowers -- yellow ones, to go with your hair?" It's a hopeful guess, and he's gauging her reaction as he shoves the fistful of pills into his pocket.
Reply
These are the teachings of Daisy, Daisy Adair. She's often thought about writing a book, but without a transcriber-slash-personal assistant the altruism of the endeavour hardly seems worth her while. Maybe she should recruit George. Then again, surliness is such an unattractive quality in an assistant.
Just like unsubtlety in a hopeless junkie.
"And I do hope, if those aren't Tylenol, that you're at least planning to sell them rather than take them. Puke on my shoes again and there won't be any second chances."
Reply
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How was your day?
Reply
[A very small, shaky smile. Franz seems--different somehow, far from his usual jovial, sardonic self.] And yours? Something's telling me it wasn't so good. Problems at work?
Reply
[Problems at work don't begin to describe it. Today had started off terribly, and gotten worse and worse. Franz always knew if he followed Raul into his ambitions for the NPP that they would face foul play and threats, but today was the first time he saw a true threat of it.]
Mr. Muggles died. He got sick. [Poisoned, and Franz always thought his apartment was secure, that he could trust his dog walker, that the locks were always safe. But someone had fillled the Pomeranian's bowl with antifreeze and Franz had been too tired returning home from work in the wee hours to notice he was unwell until it was too late.
The threat was obvious. The dog was, in a lot of ways, one of his oldest friends in Siren's Port. He had promised to take care of him for Claire, and now he's gone. Franz swallows hard.]
If... if I'm so busy with work I can't take care of my own dog, then I think.
I think we ought to end things here and now, before I end up neglecting you as well.
[Kurt will be next. Franz can sense it, like the ( ... )
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