[closed] ever see the wings of a dragonfly?

[trephaestos]

Who: nobilified and trephaestos
When: Not long after the auction.
Where: ICT to Market to Dismas to Clinic, meeting at any, or anywhere in between…
Format: Prose into action?
What: Will Shirley get what she paid for? ...Which is what?
Warnings: Social disregard and/or incompetence? ;-)

Comments

[nobilified]

[ in this sort of weather, in this season, shirley would wear the hood of her cloak up. and she would be a lack of color against such a dull city, blending into what little color there already is: as true a ghost as she can be with form or perhaps truer, still, because she is not the ghost who, otherwise, goes unnoticed.

but today, her hood is down.

because well, she's the sort to know when she is being looked for. and rather than be so simple about it, no, that's too easy, she makes a game of it. (was it really a book or a spark or a cloth or an orange?) not that it's much of a game if she stays one step ahead - or several, actually. it's on the clinic's steps, though, she makes herself known. sitting there, smiling, and easy in the rigidness of her posture.

she half-sweeps her hand toward the case of beakers next to her. ]

I believe flowers are more traditional.

[ okay, shirley, okay. you creep. ]

[trephaestos]

[He stops short of where would be congenial, or nonchalant, his normal thoughtful frown semi-aborted in her direction, leaving something more quizzical.

ORANGE.]

Here's where I know you from…? I recognized you. You work here?

[Okay, Trepkos, okay you Vulcan.]