Crude lips graced by a surveying grin, the suspicious character’s leather clad hand reaches out in greeting mannerism.
“It’s a pleasure, mademoiselle.”
Penelope stared at his hand for what seemed to be a bit of a split second before she enthusiastically took hold of it with both hands, shaking with a good bit of her strength—which she had plenty of. After all, carrying around a huge ass flamethrower for long periods of time wasn’t for the weak.
“S’yer name? Sheila’s already tellin’ me it’s ‘Lettuce’ but I figuah’d askin’ yah myself would be thah best thing. M’Penny! Pleased tah meetchyah!”
Oh, how deceiving appearances were.
Formerly suave sentiment discovers sudden disruption as, due to the intensity of the petite seeming woman’s greeting easily out-dating any possible expectation; a jolt claims the male’s physique and only with utter strain an attempt to regain his initial, straightened chassis may be brought forwards– had the handshake have him stumble forwards in a sudden loss of balance.
With fierce, nearly indignant distaste, engrossed in a notorious, repeated adjustment of his bordeaux tie, tightened jaw concealed behind faint artificiality, the male’s throat emits a hoarse cough.
“That woman.” A breath leaves the affiliated man’s nostrils.
“You are better of not paying her mindless words any attention, wouldn’t you think so?”
Albeit humoring playfulness lies within hid words, a sense of aversion is transported.
“You are free to call me Gaudet, jeune dame.”
In an attempt to improve former impression, with slick chivalry, the blond’s hand is claimed faintly, lifted, and a kiss merely implied.
Green orbs intimately respond to the neon ones gracing the woman’s filigree presence; the gentleman’s crude hands ascend, in constrained motion, to demandingly claim the porcelain curvature of the petite female’s countenance, features softening upon the familiar notion.
Nefarious calculation surfacing along with the tenebrous venes on the suit-clad males hands prominently straining; one hand grasping the defined jaw; burying itself within the ebony threads of noil, the other; and with a faint movement of his countenance, a nonverbal request to remain still.
« Moyennant quoi j’ai gagné l’honneur de la faveur de cette jeune dame? »
Pulling himself close, former imperiousness gradually subsiding, the aged male invites himself to a kiss on his bride’s lush lips; the shadow of his hat engulfing the action, concealing it, quite handily, from any curious watchers.
«Je’taime aussie, jeune mariee. »
Well hiyah!
Crude lips graced by a surveying grin, the suspicious character’s leather clad hand reaches out in greeting mannerism.
“It’s a pleasure, mademoiselle.”
/Frowns./ Anozzah Spy….
Suave movement to indicate a subtle greeting as the male’s gloved digits reach up to lift his bordeaux Fedora. With meticulous surveillance the man’s orbs rest upon the other, before a grin traces his lips.
“It’s a pleasure.”
Mmm. /Still looks suspicious, raising an eyebrow over the rim of his glasses./ I’m sure.
A stoical portrayal returns to the man’s features, the adjustment of his tie of such notoriety; his eyes remain fixated on the unaffiliated Medic.
“You are the second one to scold me a liar today.”
A sense of condescendence lies within his words,yet the suit-clad gentleman’s voice soon repatriates, with common artificiality, to the initial thread of conversation.
“Call me Gaudet.”
/Frowns./ Anozzah Spy….
Suave movement to indicate a subtle greeting as the male’s gloved digits reach up to lift his bordeaux Fedora. With meticulous surveillance the man’s orbs rest upon the other, before a grin traces his lips.
“It’s a pleasure.”
chick habit (english) / april march
