Ton looks up for about the 87th time from the datapad.
But look! Something he missed the first 86 times!
The cyborg smiles wickedly, and, looking around for something to throw, finds....
Nothing. 'Cept the datapad, and he doesn't want to cause an injury, mostly because, then, as the nearest physician, he'd have to treat it, and a) he already wasted enough of ONE life doing that, and b) the dead are, in general, lazy.
He eyes his target reproachfully. "You're lucky, this time. Know that."
How long has been? Perhaps not long at all, for all Irene doesn't look surprised when she sweeps through her door tonight in wine-dark silk and garnets. Her hair appears to be in the process of being pulled down from its high set, sections tumbling loose in a dark waterfall around her shoulders. No purse in her fingers either, just a sleek mother-of-pearl comb that looks almost too sharp to be in hair, but then what else would it be used for?
She wouldn't give the man on the couch a second glance on her graceful path to the bar normally. But as she passes him in a wave of sweet perfume and the soft creak of whalebone she sees, from the corner of her eye, his face.
Or rather, what parts aren't there.
She doesn't flinch, exactly. Her foot hesitates just once, her eyes sliding back to take in as much as she can without turning her head. And are her steps a little slower now, as she passes?
Maybe.
One thing's for sure, when she has a glass of wine in hand and she's assured Bar that she'll pay eventually, she settles herself into a
( ... )
When Door opens, Ton's attention is easily grabbed, and he glances in the newcomers direction, as he has a thousan--
Whoa.
That? That's a double take. Others may know this by the flash of light off his faceplate that just swung across the bar twice.
Ton catches the slight hesitation in her step, and swings to watch her. Dear Face: Things I forgot to thank you for include a heightened understanding of body language, especially in women. So THANK YOU.
He grins, perhaps a little smarmishly, and bows slightly in her direction. "See something you like, Miss..."
Irene's gotten used to people speaking in rather a different manner than she's accustomed to, when she's here. That doesn't mean she doesn't raise an eyebrow at him slightly, her whole body speaking volumes about just what a ridiculous thing she thinks it is for him to say. Delicately gloved fingers bring the wineglass to her lips and she sips it while watching him over the rim.
She's not watching the faceplate. Very carefully.
When the wine is replaced on the tabletop and she's dabbed at her lips with a napkin, that's when she deigns to speak to him(and oh but she does make sure it's clear in her tone).
"Is that how you would address a lady, where you hail from?"
Ton blinks his one blue eye, but quickly recovers with a snort. "Only in a tapcaf. Besides, I ccould tell you thought it was a good idea to keep an eye on this dashing visage."
Dear Face: Thanks taken back. Get back here and teach me more.
Comments 14
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But look! Something he missed the first 86 times!
The cyborg smiles wickedly, and, looking around for something to throw, finds....
Nothing. 'Cept the datapad, and he doesn't want to cause an injury, mostly because, then, as the nearest physician, he'd have to treat it, and a) he already wasted enough of ONE life doing that, and b) the dead are, in general, lazy.
He eyes his target reproachfully. "You're lucky, this time. Know that."
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"Hmm?"
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Pilot logic = OXYMORON.
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She wouldn't give the man on the couch a second glance on her graceful path to the bar normally. But as she passes him in a wave of sweet perfume and the soft creak of whalebone she sees, from the corner of her eye, his face.
Or rather, what parts aren't there.
She doesn't flinch, exactly. Her foot hesitates just once, her eyes sliding back to take in as much as she can without turning her head. And are her steps a little slower now, as she passes?
Maybe.
One thing's for sure, when she has a glass of wine in hand and she's assured Bar that she'll pay eventually, she settles herself into a ( ... )
Reply
Whoa.
That? That's a double take. Others may know this by the flash of light off his faceplate that just swung across the bar twice.
Ton catches the slight hesitation in her step, and swings to watch her. Dear Face: Things I forgot to thank you for include a heightened understanding of body language, especially in women. So THANK YOU.
He grins, perhaps a little smarmishly, and bows slightly in her direction. "See something you like, Miss..."
Reply
She's not watching the faceplate. Very carefully.
When the wine is replaced on the tabletop and she's dabbed at her lips with a napkin, that's when she deigns to speak to him(and oh but she does make sure it's clear in her tone).
"Is that how you would address a lady, where you hail from?"
Reply
Dear Face: Thanks taken back. Get back here and teach me more.
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