synanthrope | (no subject)

(no subject)

Quiet week, isn't it?

[Saya will never be the first to say no curses but she's thinking it]

I remember something, from long ago. An invasion. Around this time of year. I remember locking the Warehouse.

It was a long time ago, but I was only twenty-six.

I'm sorry the warm weather didn't last longer.

[That's how one uses I'm sorry, right?]

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That it is.

[Besides, he likes her body just fine.]

I thought I would give something you would enjoy.

That's certainly the Christmas spirit.

[So is unwrapping things. Her cashmere is as soft as it looks.]

I'm filled with the Christmas spirit. Possessed.

[He catches her wrist with a faint smirk.]

That sounds like a problem. Maybe we should call a priest?

[She turns her wrist in his hand - it's tiny and delicate]

Would a priest fix it? Maybe I would just fix a priest.

[His grasp tightens, not because he thinks he can pin her-- or even wants to-- it's just habit.]

I was going to suggest we go out on the town.

[She smiles at him, her eyes brightening]

Lets go out, then.

[She moves off his lap, then, and stands up. She does not replace her panties, however.]

[Cruel, cruel. He might forgive you later, Saya, if you let him make you pay.]

Hungry?

[Someone he doesn't sound entirely enthused anymore.]

For speed.

Let's take one of the cars.

[Her eyes are dangerous, now. The roads are icy and she normally doesn't like driving them where the snow and salt might touch them.]

[It's not the sort of offer he's inclined to refuse, so he stands and buttons his coat back up to follow her.]

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