[ Ultimately, for her, the party is just - work. A different kind maybe so far as it's for once personal to her usual business done for Jack at an arm's length to the people's whose lives she's often destroyed. By the time the night is done, she'll have fangs to match her broodmates viciousness in - disgust for it all. She doesn't like being what she's best at, and the only thing she loathes more is the people that function that in such delusion what kind of monster they were. ( If there's a difference between her and her father and those like him, is that she rules illusions but she has never had any about herself )
But for now, when she comes knocking on his door with a bundle of the long lacing white skirts and gold embroidery in her hands to stop her from tripping on them. Markings dull and flat and blue where they're exposed. She's not as done up as she will be later, either. All bedecked, but she's - barefoot as always, contently smoothing her fingers over the soft material and humming whilst she waits for him to open the door. Her mind loud, clear enough that it's her when she wants to be, flung open happily to him. ]
Steve, you have to tell me how I look -
[ Because - it's selfish, it's so selfish - she won't like how anyone looks at her otherwise when the night comes and nor does she care really, she likes these clothes because she feels as close to floating once more in them as she can. Dressing herself the way she likes, owning this flesh and bones is important to her. More so than most people's opinions.
But she's found she so very much likes how he looks at her, too. ]
[ As usual he's busying himself on the Extranet. The tech folks have more efficient methods of searching the net for keywords, but he likes to check it himself this way, manually keeping tabs on the news and for anything that might seem off. The openness of her mind pulls him from his focus a split second before the knock on the door and he's quick to jump from the bed to his feet, nearly tripping on too-large wool socks covering them.
There's already a smile on his face when he opens the door, but his eyebrows jump , his lips left parted - in that open moment between them she can catch a glimpse of herself in his mind, outlined in white and gold like she just stepped out of what Klimt's imagining of Snow White might have looked like. ]
You, uh - you look beautiful. [ His eyebrows still haven't traveled back down, gaze fixed on hers. ]
[ Oh - that's - something else. She feels the warmth flood up happily. To cover it more than anything she drops the fold of material in her hand and props her arms out from her side to twirl in front of him. A flare of the material out from her side before she stops back front of him, a big smile on her face. ]
Really? [ Well, yes Angel, she knew that - it was a beautiful dress, after all, and she likes it a lot.
But sue her, she never got to fish for compliments before, and she's finding it very rewarding when he's looking at her like that - like no one else ever did. ] You like it?
I do. [ There's no hiding the way his neck starts to flush a light red to match the sheepish tilt of his smile when she twirls around. He could honestly say he's never seen anyone as beautiful as she looks right now, and it's not even half to do with the dress.
He looks down for a second, chin ducking as a thoughtful look crosses his features and his lips parting in silence in a way that tends to mean he's not completely sure about the words to follow. ]
Would you sit for me? Not now - when you've got the time. To draw, I mean. [ For him to draw her. Petre had found his sketchbook, though he never knew if the kid spilled the beans. He has been drawing her, from memory, along with a other people in the Nest, sometimes for Bucky's benefit and sometimes for his own. ]
[ Petre hadn't, somehow. More to do with jealousy probably than sparing Steve's pride, quite undoubtedly. At least from the look on her face, it comes as a surprise. ]
You draw? [ Bubbling with it. ] Can I see? What do you draw with? [ Babbling like she does - twenty questions at once until she realises she hasn't answered his. ] Yes, of course, I can right now, if you like?
Edited (same icon 2 many times) 2016-11-08 01:55 (UTC)
[ The deluge of questions has him blinking as his brain catches up. ]
Oh, yeah - [ He turns to the desk, moving out of the way to pull out a sketchbook and charcoal pencil. ] Mostly this, but I did painting back home. Mostly posters and stuff like that. [ All for local businesses, nothing too impressive. He glances over at her, holding th sketchbook close for a moment before offering it over. ] Here.
[ He'll take a step back if she takes it, shoving his hands in his pockets. There's a few sketches of her in there, some of Ilde, Bucky and Sam too in between Concordian cityscapes. The latter appears to be done from reference, while the portraits all have much less detail. ]
[ She's so very eager, as she takes the book, stepping into the room and walking that little bit further in her ridiculous dress. Smiling as she turns over each page, careful, slowly. She admires each thing in turn. ]
It's beautiful, you're so talented. [ Stops, on one of Sam, smiling as she traces the line of his hair, then stops again at Ilde, tracing her cheek. Something so special to it in how he makes those lines, the shapes and shades. How he sees the world, somewhat, in it. ] You draw a lot, huh? I wish I could see the other things you did. [ Looks up at him, smiling again. ] They're really, really good.
[ Art was work - if he were a proper artist he'd probably be doing more in his spare time. These days it's closer to hobby, or a record of their time. It's all sketchy lines to him after staring at them too long, half finished impressions and cartoonish angles from not sitting and staring straight at the paper. ]
Thanks. [ He can't help smiling back at her, though he glances down after that, his head tilting. ] Did you - do you have time to sit now?
[ When he'd blurted out the offer and she'd accepted. ]
[ IT PROBABLY EXISTS ON PANDORA, BUT EVERYONE GOT EATEN BY CANNIBALS AT THE END INSTEAD. ]
Right, okay.
[ She goes to the bed, though her intentions are innocent. Mostly because the dress takes up too much space, and it's easier to settle on the bed in a way that's comfortable to her with it. She gathers up the skirts again and sits on the edge to push herself back so she can curl her legs under her. Fussing for a second, before she looks up at him. Her hands settled in her lap, her skirts draped to the side. ] Is this okay?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sometime before saffit party
But for now, when she comes knocking on his door with a bundle of the long lacing white skirts and gold embroidery in her hands to stop her from tripping on them. Markings dull and flat and blue where they're exposed. She's not as done up as she will be later, either. All bedecked, but she's - barefoot as always, contently smoothing her fingers over the soft material and humming whilst she waits for him to open the door. Her mind loud, clear enough that it's her when she wants to be, flung open happily to him. ]
Steve, you have to tell me how I look -
[ Because - it's selfish, it's so selfish - she won't like how anyone looks at her otherwise when the night comes and nor does she care really, she likes these clothes because she feels as close to floating once more in them as she can. Dressing herself the way she likes, owning this flesh and bones is important to her. More so than most people's opinions.
But she's found she so very much likes how he looks at her, too. ]
no subject
There's already a smile on his face when he opens the door, but his eyebrows jump , his lips left parted - in that open moment between them she can catch a glimpse of herself in his mind, outlined in white and gold like she just stepped out of what Klimt's imagining of Snow White might have looked like. ]
You, uh - you look beautiful. [ His eyebrows still haven't traveled back down, gaze fixed on hers. ]
no subject
Really? [ Well, yes Angel, she knew that - it was a beautiful dress, after all, and she likes it a lot.
But sue her, she never got to fish for compliments before, and she's finding it very rewarding when he's looking at her like that - like no one else ever did. ] You like it?
no subject
He looks down for a second, chin ducking as a thoughtful look crosses his features and his lips parting in silence in a way that tends to mean he's not completely sure about the words to follow. ]
Would you sit for me? Not now - when you've got the time. To draw, I mean. [ For him to draw her. Petre had found his sketchbook, though he never knew if the kid spilled the beans. He has been drawing her, from memory, along with a other people in the Nest, sometimes for Bucky's benefit and sometimes for his own. ]
no subject
You draw? [ Bubbling with it. ] Can I see? What do you draw with? [ Babbling like she does - twenty questions at once until she realises she hasn't answered his. ] Yes, of course, I can right now, if you like?
no subject
Oh, yeah - [ He turns to the desk, moving out of the way to pull out a sketchbook and charcoal pencil. ] Mostly this, but I did painting back home. Mostly posters and stuff like that. [ All for local businesses, nothing too impressive. He glances over at her, holding th sketchbook close for a moment before offering it over. ] Here.
[ He'll take a step back if she takes it, shoving his hands in his pockets. There's a few sketches of her in there, some of Ilde, Bucky and Sam too in between Concordian cityscapes. The latter appears to be done from reference, while the portraits all have much less detail. ]
no subject
It's beautiful, you're so talented. [ Stops, on one of Sam, smiling as she traces the line of his hair, then stops again at Ilde, tracing her cheek. Something so special to it in how he makes those lines, the shapes and shades. How he sees the world, somewhat, in it. ] You draw a lot, huh? I wish I could see the other things you did. [ Looks up at him, smiling again. ] They're really, really good.
no subject
Thanks. [ He can't help smiling back at her, though he glances down after that, his head tilting. ] Did you - do you have time to sit now?
[ When he'd blurted out the offer and she'd accepted. ]
no subject
[ What does it entail??? Is this going to be that scene from the Titanic??? ]
no subject
GOOD THING NEITHER OF THEM HAVE SEEN THAT?He's quick to shake his head. ]No - only thing you gotta do is sit, however you're most comfortable. [ Bed, chair - he moves out of the way. ]
no subject
IT PROBABLY EXISTS ON PANDORA, BUT EVERYONE GOT EATEN BY CANNIBALS AT THE END INSTEAD.]Right, okay.
[ She goes to the bed, though her intentions are innocent. Mostly because the dress takes up too much space, and it's easier to settle on the bed in a way that's comfortable to her with it. She gathers up the skirts again and sits on the edge to push herself back so she can curl her legs under her. Fussing for a second, before she looks up at him. Her hands settled in her lap, her skirts draped to the side. ] Is this okay?
no subject
Yeah - [ glancing up again before he sits down, eyebrows raised ] - you sure you won't wrinkle your dress?