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xp_logsDetermined Manny not be the only one making the effort to change his ways, Amanda plots a surprise... of the romantic kind. Manuel shows his appreciation with a gift beyond price; he shows her how he sees her.
Warning: Contains schmoop. Excessive amounts.
There was a note on Manuel's door. Well, not so much a note, as an arrow pointing down the hall, and the anarchy symbol Amanda used as a signature, drawn in slightly-glowing chalk.
Manuel blinked and stared at his door. This was certainly different - the arrow and Anarchy Sigil were definitely Amanda, all right, but the glow of the chalk was extremely subtle. He doubted anyone else could have seen it, so close was it to the shade of his door. Shrugging, he opened up his door to deposit his books and things, and then followed the trail wherever it would lead him.
The arrows lead him a merry dance, through the halls, down the stairs, via a couple of empty classrooms (but carefully bypassing the kitchen) until he reached the music room door. It was closed, but light was shining under it, soft, golden light rather than the harsh fluorescents.
Manuel, by now grinning, came up to the last door. He very deliberately didn't scan through it before opening the door - to try to preserve whatever surprise Amanda had in store.
The light was candlelight - about a dozen of the thick pedestal candles Amanda used for spells had been set up around the room. The light centred on a picnic blanket that had been spread on the middle of the floor, leaving the bulk of the room in shadow, including the piano. Amanda herself was nowhere to be seen, but the link betrayed her presence, a combination of anticipation, mischief and a certain amount of nervousness. A bottle of red wine and two glasses also sat on the blanket, along with a basket of food - bread, cheese, fruit...
Manuel looked around, didn't see Amanda, but definitely felt her presence. "Well, this is unexpected." he commented with a grin. "And very pretty. The candelight is a very nice touch." he said to the apparently empty room. Grinning, he settled himself on the blanket, and poured two glasses of wine. He picked his up, but did not drink from it right away.
Cloaked in the shadows by the piano, with a bit of help from her long-unused invisibility spell (she'd had to spend a couple of days preparing that one), Amanda smiled in relief. So far so good. Now for the other part... Laying her fingers gingerly on the piano keys, she started playing, a traditional Basque air she'd picked up from his memories and which she'd been practicing ever since Columbia. She wasn't perfect, but that didn't matter – she let the feeling come through instead, the spell slipping from her as she played and revealing her gradually. She'd gotten Angie's help with dressing, choosing a pair of plain black dress pants and a dark blue Chinese-style top, shot through with silver. It was dressier than anything else she'd ever worn, and covered the scars without making her look dowdy.
Manuel blinked as he was overcome by emotion – from within and without. The melody, while ragged in places, was close enough that he could sing a few snatches of the traditional air here and there. When the spell finally fell far enough for Manuel to see Amanda, he blinked and for a split-second doubted that what he was seeing was real. But that feeling went away, to be replaced by a sense of unholy amusement and appreciation. "I must have been a good boy." he said as the last notes of the air died away. Hoisting his wineglass, he saluted her with it. "Bravi." he said to her, then drank the wine.
Amanda blushed crimson as she got up from the piano and joined him on the rug. "You like it?" she asked, knowing from the link he did but needing to hear it any way. "I wanted t' do somethin' for you, show you..." Words failed her, and she shrugged. "I wanted t' surprise you with somethin' nice."
Manuel poured himself another glass of wine, and handed Amanda her own glass. "I did. You must have worked hard on that. Did I leave it behind when I invaded your mind?" he asked, managing to kick down the usual emotional wound that accompanied that memory. "It was beautiful. Thank you. I loved it." With exaggerated concern, he looked around the Music Room. "I don't think this is an ancient pagan fertility site, unless things have changed quite dramatically since yesterday."
She nodded. "Bits of it. I had t' find the rest, an' then practice without anyone hearin' me - 's too hard t' explain how I suddenly know how t' play." A small, shy smile crossed her face. "I was hopin' I didn't bollocks it up too much, but it looks like I didn't. 'M glad you liked it."
"It was a little ragged, but that's OK. I wasn't expecting this at _all_ - and punk sounds _terrible_ on just the piano." His face twisted as he remembered his early experiments in that area. "Well, more horrible, anyway." He looked into the basket, and withdrew a hunk of cheese and the loaf of bread. "May I?" he asked, nodding at the bread and cheese.
"Sure." Relaxing a little, the scary part largely over, Amanda sipped at her wine, watching him as he tore of a chunk of bread. "You tried playin' punk?" she asked, curious.
Manuel nodded. "A few pieces, here and there. I was in a remix phase for a while there." he said with a grin. "Didn't turn out so well - punk is meant for loud thrashing guitars, not the subtle elegance of the piano." He sliced himself off a piece of the cheese, and waggled it in her direction enticingly.
"Loud thrashin' guitars is the whole point," she agreed. "Loud angry music for not thinkin' to." Careful of her glass, she scooted closer and took the offered cheese, nibbling on it. "I was thinkin' of doin' this outside somewhere, but with all the health nuts joggin', it's hard t' find a quiet spot."
Manuel nodded. "No, this is fine." he said, but his emotions said that the outdoor idea would have been even nicer. He watched Amanda nibble the cheese in his hand, and smiled sloppily at her. "That's almost disturbing in its cuteness, you know." He commented as she nibbled. "You look nice." he said. "Clean up surprisingly well. I thought you hated getting all dressy. That's why I'm not wearing my suits anymore."
"I'd noticed," she said, with a twinge of guilt. The compromises he'd been making, the effort, were part of the reason why she'd wanted to do this. "Frenchie helped me pick it out online," she went on. "An' do the rest. 'S funny, it ain't half as uncomfortable as I thought it'd be. Must be the silk." She was a texture junkie, and silk was a favourite.
Manuel knew damned well she was a texture junkie, and he wasn't above using it shamelessly to his advantage. "Silk is very nice. For a time when I was a boy, nothing touched my body but silk. You might like Egyptian cotton, too. Feels wonderfully light on the skin. I've been meaning to order myself some new shirts - want me to get you one as well? I know what colors look good on you, if I can find a non-colorblind order system to do you justice." He grinned as a thought came to him. "I've had my eye on a few other items for you as well, if you wouldn't find it presumptuous for me to buy you clothes."
"You mean somethin' I can wear outside the bedroom?" she asked innocently, referring to Manuel's habit of buying her lingerie. Mostly to replace what got torn off. "I trust yer judgement," she went on. "An' I tend t' borrow half yer shirts any way, so maybe gettin' some of me own's a good idea." There was an edge of trepidation though - Manuel often lamented the way she covered up, and she didn't know if he'd use the opportunity to get her something skimpy.
Manuel shot Amanda a Look - the one she knew well, the 'I find your lack of faith disturbing' Look. "You'll like them. I have my eye on some shirts you might like. How do you feel about vests?" he asked, eyeing her curiously. "You'd look good in a leather vest over a white blouse. Covers what you want covered, but still has that little taste of something exotic. You can even wear your combat boots with it."
"You mean they don't go with everythin'?" she asked, grinning. It had been a recurring theme, and she was finally acknowledging he had a point. Although she was wearing the aforementioned boots now, but the pants covered them well. They were comfortable, dammit. "Tell you what, since you did the punk music thing with me, I'll do the clothes thing with you. Whatever you want me t' wear. 'Sides, I still owe you from England - that bet I lost, remember?"
Manuel quirked _both_ his eyebrows in surprise. "Now that was unexpected." he commented, and then grinned as he tore off another hunk of bread. "I can't promise you'll like the experience much - women's clothing designers are universally sadistic gay men - but I am fairly certain that you'll like the result. I won't even torture you with shoes - much." he said. "You like my shirts, so there's some hope for you there." he commented.
She wrinkled her nose at his surprise, and sipped at her wine again. "'M not _that_ difficult," she told him. "Dressin' the way I do... 's safe, but it tends t' make people see me a certain way, an' I don't always like it. An' it's fun t' watch their faces when I do dress up - like yers, tonight. 'M just not that good at it, an' you are, so I’m lettin' you show me what looks good." Then she pouted, just a little. "Sure we can't just skip the shoes altogether?"
"Yes, I'm quite sure." Manuel laughed. "Contrary to popular belief, combat boots do not go with everything. But I should have recognized Marie-Ange's hand in things, for all of her quirks she does have a strong sense of style." he grinned, and then ate the remainder of his hunk of bread, washing it down with a healthy swallow of wine. "The outfit does suit you well." he said by way of reassurance. "Beauty is really a sense of confidence. Think you're sexy and to some extent you will be. That I can help you with."
Grabbing a handful of raspberries from the basket, Amanda ate a couple while she thought. "I can see that," she said at last. "Someone like Alison - she's pretty any way, but the way she acts, the way she sees herself... it makes you see more there." She sighed a little. "'S just hard t' think confident when I see meself in the bathroom mirror of a mornin'." Enough of that - she didn't want to dwell on the scars again. "How's that charm workin' for you? No problems?"
Manuel held up a hand for her to take. "I can help you with that." he said confidently. "I can let you see you the way I see you. And the charm is working just fine - I ripped through a paper this afternoon that would have taken me two days before."
Amanda swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, and she had another couple of mouthfuls of wine. "All right," she said, laying her hand in his, ignoring the slight trembling of her fingers. She knew Manuel loved her, but she didn't know what he thought of her physically, and the prospect of finding out was mildly terrifying. "Show me."
Manuel took her hand in his gently, then opened his mind to her as far as he could go. "You'll need to make the bridge – I can't do it." he said, keeping his emotions as neutral as he could, to make her part of things easier. "I can give you the feelings, but you know those. I want to _show_ you."
She nodded and closed her eyes - it helped her visualise if she couldn't see anything else. Strange's training had been focussing on training her mental abilities, and she used his techniques now, picturing the link between them growing, expanding, until it was a bridge, a road, from his mind to hers. Pushing back her fear, she nodded, eyes still closed. "Done," she said, her voice cracking a little.
Manuel, his mind more flexible and used to dealing with odd inputs than Amanda's, rifled through his own memories and then shared it via the link to Amanda. The memory was of her coming down the stairs for her birthday expedition - Pixies shirt, leather pants, combat boots, the entire thing. How she looked through his eyes, how she made him feel. The fragile beauty under all the scuffed leather and projected tough-girl imagery.
Her breath caught as she saw herself in his memories. He saw so much more than she'd ever considered - part of her had been convinced it was her emotions, not _her_ that he'd loved. But to see this... It was a little too much, and she pulled her hand from his, breaking the connection.
Manuel let the connection die and gave her the space she undoubtedly needed to process what he had shared. "So no, it's not just your emotions." he said quietly, then distracted himself with wine and raspberries and bread and cheese.
Amanda was quiet for a long moment, although the link was awash with emotions. When she looked up at Manuel, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I..." she began, but there were no words, nothing she could say to convey what she was feeling. So she leaned over and kissed him, tenderly, letting everything she felt and thought pour down the link to him.
Manuel blinked as his mind processed the information, the feelings, coming over the link. He returned the kiss, just as tenderly, and then when he broke it off he smiled at her. "Now you're starting to feel it. That self-confidence I was talking about. Doesn't matter what that maniac did to you with his knife. Underneath all of that, under the attitude and those fucking combat boots and the scars and the piercings and the bad dyejob and all of _that_ there's a pretty girl in there. I see her."
"Yer the first one who has," she said with a only a hint of the usual self-mocking. "But yer've got a good eye for that sort of thing. I... I believe you." A blush tinted her cheeks and she looked down again, suddenly shy. "I dunno what t' say now," she admitted.
"You don't have to say anything. Just feel – feel what I feel. Carry it within you, for when you feel the ravages of your addiction, or when you get down on yourself. Keep that feeling in a secret place, so that you'll always have it." he urged with _far_ too much passion.
She smiled at that. "I will," she promised, already doing just that in her mind - it was a trick she'd learned with Rack, putting things into mental boxes. Back then it had been the hurt and anger and fear she couldn't afford to let him see, but now she did it for the memories, the good things she wanted to keep for herself. "I love you," she murmured, stroking his face gently. "You know that, right?"
Manuel smirked, and then sipped at the last of his wine. "Empath, remember?" he teased. "But seriously, yes. I see it, I hear it, I feel it, I _know_ it. Nothing is going to take that away from us. We have a bond, you and I."
She nodded, chuckling a little at her own silliness. "Yeah, we do. An' I wouldn't have it any other way." It occurred to her that this kind of binding was vastly preferable to the kind etched on her skin, but she didn't voice the thought - it had no place here. "So," she said, edging a little closer to him and putting her hand on his leg. "Here we are, with the candles an' all, just you an' me. Anythin' you want t' do? Seein' how 'm all yours, that is."
"Are you?" he purred, his eyes predatory but not tinged with red. "Mine, that is? Hrm. Let's see here..." he said with a grin. "There are all kinds of possibilities."
Warning: Contains schmoop. Excessive amounts.
There was a note on Manuel's door. Well, not so much a note, as an arrow pointing down the hall, and the anarchy symbol Amanda used as a signature, drawn in slightly-glowing chalk.
Manuel blinked and stared at his door. This was certainly different - the arrow and Anarchy Sigil were definitely Amanda, all right, but the glow of the chalk was extremely subtle. He doubted anyone else could have seen it, so close was it to the shade of his door. Shrugging, he opened up his door to deposit his books and things, and then followed the trail wherever it would lead him.
The arrows lead him a merry dance, through the halls, down the stairs, via a couple of empty classrooms (but carefully bypassing the kitchen) until he reached the music room door. It was closed, but light was shining under it, soft, golden light rather than the harsh fluorescents.
Manuel, by now grinning, came up to the last door. He very deliberately didn't scan through it before opening the door - to try to preserve whatever surprise Amanda had in store.
The light was candlelight - about a dozen of the thick pedestal candles Amanda used for spells had been set up around the room. The light centred on a picnic blanket that had been spread on the middle of the floor, leaving the bulk of the room in shadow, including the piano. Amanda herself was nowhere to be seen, but the link betrayed her presence, a combination of anticipation, mischief and a certain amount of nervousness. A bottle of red wine and two glasses also sat on the blanket, along with a basket of food - bread, cheese, fruit...
Manuel looked around, didn't see Amanda, but definitely felt her presence. "Well, this is unexpected." he commented with a grin. "And very pretty. The candelight is a very nice touch." he said to the apparently empty room. Grinning, he settled himself on the blanket, and poured two glasses of wine. He picked his up, but did not drink from it right away.
Cloaked in the shadows by the piano, with a bit of help from her long-unused invisibility spell (she'd had to spend a couple of days preparing that one), Amanda smiled in relief. So far so good. Now for the other part... Laying her fingers gingerly on the piano keys, she started playing, a traditional Basque air she'd picked up from his memories and which she'd been practicing ever since Columbia. She wasn't perfect, but that didn't matter – she let the feeling come through instead, the spell slipping from her as she played and revealing her gradually. She'd gotten Angie's help with dressing, choosing a pair of plain black dress pants and a dark blue Chinese-style top, shot through with silver. It was dressier than anything else she'd ever worn, and covered the scars without making her look dowdy.
Manuel blinked as he was overcome by emotion – from within and without. The melody, while ragged in places, was close enough that he could sing a few snatches of the traditional air here and there. When the spell finally fell far enough for Manuel to see Amanda, he blinked and for a split-second doubted that what he was seeing was real. But that feeling went away, to be replaced by a sense of unholy amusement and appreciation. "I must have been a good boy." he said as the last notes of the air died away. Hoisting his wineglass, he saluted her with it. "Bravi." he said to her, then drank the wine.
Amanda blushed crimson as she got up from the piano and joined him on the rug. "You like it?" she asked, knowing from the link he did but needing to hear it any way. "I wanted t' do somethin' for you, show you..." Words failed her, and she shrugged. "I wanted t' surprise you with somethin' nice."
Manuel poured himself another glass of wine, and handed Amanda her own glass. "I did. You must have worked hard on that. Did I leave it behind when I invaded your mind?" he asked, managing to kick down the usual emotional wound that accompanied that memory. "It was beautiful. Thank you. I loved it." With exaggerated concern, he looked around the Music Room. "I don't think this is an ancient pagan fertility site, unless things have changed quite dramatically since yesterday."
She nodded. "Bits of it. I had t' find the rest, an' then practice without anyone hearin' me - 's too hard t' explain how I suddenly know how t' play." A small, shy smile crossed her face. "I was hopin' I didn't bollocks it up too much, but it looks like I didn't. 'M glad you liked it."
"It was a little ragged, but that's OK. I wasn't expecting this at _all_ - and punk sounds _terrible_ on just the piano." His face twisted as he remembered his early experiments in that area. "Well, more horrible, anyway." He looked into the basket, and withdrew a hunk of cheese and the loaf of bread. "May I?" he asked, nodding at the bread and cheese.
"Sure." Relaxing a little, the scary part largely over, Amanda sipped at her wine, watching him as he tore of a chunk of bread. "You tried playin' punk?" she asked, curious.
Manuel nodded. "A few pieces, here and there. I was in a remix phase for a while there." he said with a grin. "Didn't turn out so well - punk is meant for loud thrashing guitars, not the subtle elegance of the piano." He sliced himself off a piece of the cheese, and waggled it in her direction enticingly.
"Loud thrashin' guitars is the whole point," she agreed. "Loud angry music for not thinkin' to." Careful of her glass, she scooted closer and took the offered cheese, nibbling on it. "I was thinkin' of doin' this outside somewhere, but with all the health nuts joggin', it's hard t' find a quiet spot."
Manuel nodded. "No, this is fine." he said, but his emotions said that the outdoor idea would have been even nicer. He watched Amanda nibble the cheese in his hand, and smiled sloppily at her. "That's almost disturbing in its cuteness, you know." He commented as she nibbled. "You look nice." he said. "Clean up surprisingly well. I thought you hated getting all dressy. That's why I'm not wearing my suits anymore."
"I'd noticed," she said, with a twinge of guilt. The compromises he'd been making, the effort, were part of the reason why she'd wanted to do this. "Frenchie helped me pick it out online," she went on. "An' do the rest. 'S funny, it ain't half as uncomfortable as I thought it'd be. Must be the silk." She was a texture junkie, and silk was a favourite.
Manuel knew damned well she was a texture junkie, and he wasn't above using it shamelessly to his advantage. "Silk is very nice. For a time when I was a boy, nothing touched my body but silk. You might like Egyptian cotton, too. Feels wonderfully light on the skin. I've been meaning to order myself some new shirts - want me to get you one as well? I know what colors look good on you, if I can find a non-colorblind order system to do you justice." He grinned as a thought came to him. "I've had my eye on a few other items for you as well, if you wouldn't find it presumptuous for me to buy you clothes."
"You mean somethin' I can wear outside the bedroom?" she asked innocently, referring to Manuel's habit of buying her lingerie. Mostly to replace what got torn off. "I trust yer judgement," she went on. "An' I tend t' borrow half yer shirts any way, so maybe gettin' some of me own's a good idea." There was an edge of trepidation though - Manuel often lamented the way she covered up, and she didn't know if he'd use the opportunity to get her something skimpy.
Manuel shot Amanda a Look - the one she knew well, the 'I find your lack of faith disturbing' Look. "You'll like them. I have my eye on some shirts you might like. How do you feel about vests?" he asked, eyeing her curiously. "You'd look good in a leather vest over a white blouse. Covers what you want covered, but still has that little taste of something exotic. You can even wear your combat boots with it."
"You mean they don't go with everythin'?" she asked, grinning. It had been a recurring theme, and she was finally acknowledging he had a point. Although she was wearing the aforementioned boots now, but the pants covered them well. They were comfortable, dammit. "Tell you what, since you did the punk music thing with me, I'll do the clothes thing with you. Whatever you want me t' wear. 'Sides, I still owe you from England - that bet I lost, remember?"
Manuel quirked _both_ his eyebrows in surprise. "Now that was unexpected." he commented, and then grinned as he tore off another hunk of bread. "I can't promise you'll like the experience much - women's clothing designers are universally sadistic gay men - but I am fairly certain that you'll like the result. I won't even torture you with shoes - much." he said. "You like my shirts, so there's some hope for you there." he commented.
She wrinkled her nose at his surprise, and sipped at her wine again. "'M not _that_ difficult," she told him. "Dressin' the way I do... 's safe, but it tends t' make people see me a certain way, an' I don't always like it. An' it's fun t' watch their faces when I do dress up - like yers, tonight. 'M just not that good at it, an' you are, so I’m lettin' you show me what looks good." Then she pouted, just a little. "Sure we can't just skip the shoes altogether?"
"Yes, I'm quite sure." Manuel laughed. "Contrary to popular belief, combat boots do not go with everything. But I should have recognized Marie-Ange's hand in things, for all of her quirks she does have a strong sense of style." he grinned, and then ate the remainder of his hunk of bread, washing it down with a healthy swallow of wine. "The outfit does suit you well." he said by way of reassurance. "Beauty is really a sense of confidence. Think you're sexy and to some extent you will be. That I can help you with."
Grabbing a handful of raspberries from the basket, Amanda ate a couple while she thought. "I can see that," she said at last. "Someone like Alison - she's pretty any way, but the way she acts, the way she sees herself... it makes you see more there." She sighed a little. "'S just hard t' think confident when I see meself in the bathroom mirror of a mornin'." Enough of that - she didn't want to dwell on the scars again. "How's that charm workin' for you? No problems?"
Manuel held up a hand for her to take. "I can help you with that." he said confidently. "I can let you see you the way I see you. And the charm is working just fine - I ripped through a paper this afternoon that would have taken me two days before."
Amanda swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, and she had another couple of mouthfuls of wine. "All right," she said, laying her hand in his, ignoring the slight trembling of her fingers. She knew Manuel loved her, but she didn't know what he thought of her physically, and the prospect of finding out was mildly terrifying. "Show me."
Manuel took her hand in his gently, then opened his mind to her as far as he could go. "You'll need to make the bridge – I can't do it." he said, keeping his emotions as neutral as he could, to make her part of things easier. "I can give you the feelings, but you know those. I want to _show_ you."
She nodded and closed her eyes - it helped her visualise if she couldn't see anything else. Strange's training had been focussing on training her mental abilities, and she used his techniques now, picturing the link between them growing, expanding, until it was a bridge, a road, from his mind to hers. Pushing back her fear, she nodded, eyes still closed. "Done," she said, her voice cracking a little.
Manuel, his mind more flexible and used to dealing with odd inputs than Amanda's, rifled through his own memories and then shared it via the link to Amanda. The memory was of her coming down the stairs for her birthday expedition - Pixies shirt, leather pants, combat boots, the entire thing. How she looked through his eyes, how she made him feel. The fragile beauty under all the scuffed leather and projected tough-girl imagery.
Her breath caught as she saw herself in his memories. He saw so much more than she'd ever considered - part of her had been convinced it was her emotions, not _her_ that he'd loved. But to see this... It was a little too much, and she pulled her hand from his, breaking the connection.
Manuel let the connection die and gave her the space she undoubtedly needed to process what he had shared. "So no, it's not just your emotions." he said quietly, then distracted himself with wine and raspberries and bread and cheese.
Amanda was quiet for a long moment, although the link was awash with emotions. When she looked up at Manuel, her eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I..." she began, but there were no words, nothing she could say to convey what she was feeling. So she leaned over and kissed him, tenderly, letting everything she felt and thought pour down the link to him.
Manuel blinked as his mind processed the information, the feelings, coming over the link. He returned the kiss, just as tenderly, and then when he broke it off he smiled at her. "Now you're starting to feel it. That self-confidence I was talking about. Doesn't matter what that maniac did to you with his knife. Underneath all of that, under the attitude and those fucking combat boots and the scars and the piercings and the bad dyejob and all of _that_ there's a pretty girl in there. I see her."
"Yer the first one who has," she said with a only a hint of the usual self-mocking. "But yer've got a good eye for that sort of thing. I... I believe you." A blush tinted her cheeks and she looked down again, suddenly shy. "I dunno what t' say now," she admitted.
"You don't have to say anything. Just feel – feel what I feel. Carry it within you, for when you feel the ravages of your addiction, or when you get down on yourself. Keep that feeling in a secret place, so that you'll always have it." he urged with _far_ too much passion.
She smiled at that. "I will," she promised, already doing just that in her mind - it was a trick she'd learned with Rack, putting things into mental boxes. Back then it had been the hurt and anger and fear she couldn't afford to let him see, but now she did it for the memories, the good things she wanted to keep for herself. "I love you," she murmured, stroking his face gently. "You know that, right?"
Manuel smirked, and then sipped at the last of his wine. "Empath, remember?" he teased. "But seriously, yes. I see it, I hear it, I feel it, I _know_ it. Nothing is going to take that away from us. We have a bond, you and I."
She nodded, chuckling a little at her own silliness. "Yeah, we do. An' I wouldn't have it any other way." It occurred to her that this kind of binding was vastly preferable to the kind etched on her skin, but she didn't voice the thought - it had no place here. "So," she said, edging a little closer to him and putting her hand on his leg. "Here we are, with the candles an' all, just you an' me. Anythin' you want t' do? Seein' how 'm all yours, that is."
"Are you?" he purred, his eyes predatory but not tinged with red. "Mine, that is? Hrm. Let's see here..." he said with a grin. "There are all kinds of possibilities."
