09-12-2020, 12:04 AM
Perhaps it was the attention parlayed during the day. Perhaps it was the aroma of incense hanging on the air or maybe the scotch in hand wasn’t his first drink of the night, but Seven’s smile at Zee was flirtatious. “You like to watch?” he asked with coy suggestion. It was a poor attempt to rile Zee from his shell. He was clearly uncomfortable, and Seven’s very nature was to coax the hesitant from their sometimes-prickly exteriors.
The scotch warmed his chest pleasantly. The blend had a peculiar effect on Seven completely unlike the flowery gin or zesty vodka. Scotch seeped into the bone, he once heard it described. The sentiment was absolutely correct. The beignets laid before them mounded a succubus of sweetness, but the glint remained only in Seven’s eye. He was hands’ off for now, despite the tantalizing sticky promise of the dessert.
He accepted the cards, and if there was a proper way to shuffle according to ancestral decorum, he did not know it. He worked the deck like he sat at the tables in Monte Carlo. For what a glorious place the city of royals was. Maybe he could find a similar situation in Moscow, if one knew where to inquire. He had a hint that perhaps the most exclusive of card houses in their dear Custody Capital would outshine even the most glamorous of his previous experience.
As it was, he shuffled the deck with a dramatic flair, arching the cards back down in a blurry whoosh. However, before returning them to their diviner, he held the deck to his forehead and closed his saintly pale eyes, fixing in his mind the question he desired most to answer.
Once concluded, he returned the deck to the middle of the table and leaned inward like he may share a whisper. “Madame, I am open,” he said with the promise of being hers.
((Sorry for the delay. Rowan, let me know if you want me to PM you the question.))
The scotch warmed his chest pleasantly. The blend had a peculiar effect on Seven completely unlike the flowery gin or zesty vodka. Scotch seeped into the bone, he once heard it described. The sentiment was absolutely correct. The beignets laid before them mounded a succubus of sweetness, but the glint remained only in Seven’s eye. He was hands’ off for now, despite the tantalizing sticky promise of the dessert.
He accepted the cards, and if there was a proper way to shuffle according to ancestral decorum, he did not know it. He worked the deck like he sat at the tables in Monte Carlo. For what a glorious place the city of royals was. Maybe he could find a similar situation in Moscow, if one knew where to inquire. He had a hint that perhaps the most exclusive of card houses in their dear Custody Capital would outshine even the most glamorous of his previous experience.
As it was, he shuffled the deck with a dramatic flair, arching the cards back down in a blurry whoosh. However, before returning them to their diviner, he held the deck to his forehead and closed his saintly pale eyes, fixing in his mind the question he desired most to answer.
Once concluded, he returned the deck to the middle of the table and leaned inward like he may share a whisper. “Madame, I am open,” he said with the promise of being hers.
((Sorry for the delay. Rowan, let me know if you want me to PM you the question.))