Date: 2025-01-10 01:50 am (UTC)
pathography: (02.)
From: [personal profile] pathography
"I, ah -" His neck's flushing pink along with his cheeks, and it's not from the humid heat of the room they're walking into. She's doing this on purpose, and he knows it - but the strange thing is, it doesn't feel terrible. Somehow, it's mortifying but relatively painless; there's something kind to it, a warmth underlying everything she says.

She's flirting with you, idiot. But the idea of that, that someone could find him next to a moldering corpse and decide he's worth this much trouble, is still baffling. The pickings might be slim within her group, depending on what she's interested in, but there were other patrons at the tavern. There's a town full of people who don't need a charity bath to be fuckable, and who can string three words together when a beautiful woman asks probing questions. The accent surely can't be that tempting.

Still, it's flattering, and he's trying to keep up his end of the conversation, if only because he hates the idea that she'll grow bored, and all this will end. The thought of that is...lonesome, truthfully. He clears his throat yet again. "That's to say that it depends on what you'd like me to see."
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a rich ponce with far too many names.

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