07-02-2014, 10:02 PM
"No bacon for you yet. Few days of this gruel first."
She would be getting most of her protein from sources other then meat; it was heavy and hard to digest when in a weakened state. Not that it would stop him from having all the steak and bacon he pleased while she was stuck in his care, but that was just a given.
He watched her mope over her smoothie, struggling to answer a simple question. Had she frozen? Did the idea of icing an innocent idiot not sit well with her? He had hoped, being American, that she wasn't as mindlessly indoctrinated as the Atharim he had worked with in the former Middle East and Russia. There were fleeting glimpses of a brain under all that hair dye and makeup, but she seemed hell-bent to not let it through most of the time.
It annoyed him to no ends that she had tried to kill him, but her reasoning had been good. She thought he wasn't human, and hadn't simply trusted her higher-ups to know what was what. Good thinking, poor execution. But then she was willing to get herself killed trying to off Jaxen. And botched it. "But you froze? Hesitated? Actually thought about what you were about to do? Doesn't seem all that dangerous, does he? Oh he can be with the right motivation, I've no doubt of that. Anyone can be. But he's a playboy, and a thief, and not as good at either as he seems to think."
"Pretty enough to take one of the city's richest playboys off guard. Now if you didn't look like a E-addled rave nut..."
He stood and crossed towards the door, where he grabbed a dufflebag, which was tossed onto the table in front of her on his return to his seat. It contained clothes and underwear that would probably fit her, but were decidedly not her usual style. Second hand stuff, the lot of it, and not nearly as colourfull or extreme as she might have liked. But it would be comfortable; sweat pants and hoodies, stuff she could bundle herself up in while she recovered.
"Had to cop a feel to guess your bra size."
He was joking, teasing her; the underwear were an educated guess, and blessedly not second hand.
She would be getting most of her protein from sources other then meat; it was heavy and hard to digest when in a weakened state. Not that it would stop him from having all the steak and bacon he pleased while she was stuck in his care, but that was just a given.
He watched her mope over her smoothie, struggling to answer a simple question. Had she frozen? Did the idea of icing an innocent idiot not sit well with her? He had hoped, being American, that she wasn't as mindlessly indoctrinated as the Atharim he had worked with in the former Middle East and Russia. There were fleeting glimpses of a brain under all that hair dye and makeup, but she seemed hell-bent to not let it through most of the time.
It annoyed him to no ends that she had tried to kill him, but her reasoning had been good. She thought he wasn't human, and hadn't simply trusted her higher-ups to know what was what. Good thinking, poor execution. But then she was willing to get herself killed trying to off Jaxen. And botched it. "But you froze? Hesitated? Actually thought about what you were about to do? Doesn't seem all that dangerous, does he? Oh he can be with the right motivation, I've no doubt of that. Anyone can be. But he's a playboy, and a thief, and not as good at either as he seems to think."
"Pretty enough to take one of the city's richest playboys off guard. Now if you didn't look like a E-addled rave nut..."
He stood and crossed towards the door, where he grabbed a dufflebag, which was tossed onto the table in front of her on his return to his seat. It contained clothes and underwear that would probably fit her, but were decidedly not her usual style. Second hand stuff, the lot of it, and not nearly as colourfull or extreme as she might have liked. But it would be comfortable; sweat pants and hoodies, stuff she could bundle herself up in while she recovered.
"Had to cop a feel to guess your bra size."
He was joking, teasing her; the underwear were an educated guess, and blessedly not second hand.