transgressings | inbox for duplicity;

Uncertainty, perhaps even a fear that needs confronting.

But the Priestess is a sign that you should not be afraid of seeking the truth, whatever the outcome may be.

omg i set you up for a perfect 'sounds like you should get in my bed' rejoinder and you squandered it on literalism!!!

nessa pls!!! im trying to flirt here!!

In my defense, you are the absolute first I have ever heard of using the cards to do so.

[ this is a fib. she has absolutely flirted over a tarot deck before. ]

Although if you were seeking a personal invitation to warm my bed, you could have abandoned pretense and still achieved the desired outcome.

i'm offended on behalf of the world, lovers and tower cards. i feel like you could really come up with some hilarious metaphors.

but i mean, yes, your bed would absolutely be the goal here

maybe for some chaste hand-holding. if you really want to scandalize me you could flash an ankle.

There is certainly something to be said for the Devil.

I am surprised I strike you as being all that chaste. But I suppose in the interest of being particularly risque, I could choose to forego stockings as well.

oh no doubt :p

and the stockings? you're a mad woman. luckily it's one of the very many things i enjoy about your divine company.

you free now?

So some have suspected. Of course, few are as familiar with my ankles by comparison.

For you? Certainly.

damn, that's a high honor from you.

﹙ no, shut up, he's actually touched and it's sweet. ﹚

then i'll swing by. wine, charcuterie board. rubber ducky for flavour.

As honorable as the offer of a dance extended to a mere acquaintance in a public park once upon a time.

[ another reason she is loathe to return home — forgetting that memory. ]

Name a favorite scent for me?

earth-based?

bergamot.

Perfect.

So I know what would be appropriate to apply to pulse points, you see.

all the better to enjoy your company, my dear.

you know the name of my aftershave is 'fucking fabulous'?

like, who does that. just names an aftershave that.

wild.

Not that there was any added reason necessary, certainly.

The scent itself is rather pleasing. Perhaps whoever named it simply gave it the first descriptor that came to mind.

thou art to me as the sun to a flower, that i turn my face in want of your presence.

tom ford's a genius that way tbh.

anyway.

i'll be there in like ten-fifteen.

Yours is a face that is eternally welcome in my sight.

Oh? Is he the perfumier?

At your leisure, of course.

fuck i actually don't know. fashion et al i think?

but now i'm stumped

and we aren't in my world so i can't even look it the fuck up

damn. a conundrum.

﹙ this is probably going to bother him all the way to vanessa's house, which he does arrive at in more-or-less the timeframe offered. he doesn't knock, just sort of teleports inside because he's guessing any wards she has would throw him out on his ass if he were not a welcome guest, oop. ﹚

[ There are times when she simply sits back and allows his messages to come through like a stream-of-consciousness outlet, an amused smile playing across the shape of her mouth. But she is present, as promised, when he enters in the usual manner, sitting in a more relaxed pose on the sofa in her sitting room with her slippers off and her legs drawn up beneath the drape of her skirt, stocking-clad feet barely visible beyond the hem.

She does rise to her feet to greet him because she can't not, one hand slipping into his for a loose entanglement of fingers as she inclines close enough to require tipping her head back to maintain him in her sight. Without the advantage of heels, he is nearly a foot taller than her. ]

Is it still weighing on your mind? [ The conundrum he mentioned, although she affords him a slow smile that should serve as enough indication of her willingness to replace it with other thoughts in his awareness. ]

Honestly, no.

﹙ because there is always something in her that shakes him out of the state of his head. he doesn't know if it's the beauty or the charm or some lethal intersection of the two, but he genuinely doesn't even remember what he was fussing over.

he takes her hand and bows over it, pressing a kiss against its back. ﹚

Milady.

Good sir.

[ She has never had any hope of not being charmed by him since the beginning, those gestures that have been bestowed upon her dozens upon dozens of times always seeming to adopt a different significance when he elects to use them, and she tracks his face with a smile even now as he bends low. ]

So to what do I owe this particular unexpected pleasure?

[ It is not lost on her that their meetings have not adopted any sort of organized schedule; he merely comes and goes whenever she happens to be in residence and it is convenient for her timing, although often he is just as inclined to literally pop into the shop while she is working late there, past the closing hour.

Her fingers curve around his, an unspoken invitation therein for him to join her in sitting down. ] Of course, you hardly need a reason to call on me.

Whimsy, dear girl. Nothing more apropos than whimsy. I am but humble driftwood buffeted about by the eddies of your magnetism.

﹙ but he takes up a spot beside her, rubbing his thumb fondly over her knuckles as he does. ﹚

A purely fanciful notion? I suppose I cannot be too bothered if the spontaneous impulse led you to my door above all others.

[ The touch is subtle, but grounding; often she retreats from direct skin-to-skin contact when what she is able to discern from a mere touch proves too overwhelming for her, but here the motion is what proves to be simultaneously calming while drawing her to incline closer, maintaining that physical tether. ]

And now that you are here?

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