02-10-2016, 01:38 AM
Pen studied Margot for a longer beat (delaying tactic because she needs must marshall her reaction to Sepúlveda and she still does not know what it will be tonight though he is come down the hallway), but Nicholas's I'm good had the corner of her mouth hooking up. Turns out her reaction to Sepúlveda is sheathed (Inquisitive, and a touch careful), but the vibrant hint of a smile in her eyes is sincere and she clasps (Companionship [Soldier]) his upper left arm with her right hand.
During the introductions, Penelope's attention rests on Ned -- he's the newest and the quietest and so curiosity like a cat beelining for the person who likes cats least wants to spend time with him. The Hello gets an incline of her head and Nick (not to mention Andrés) also gets a " - but I go by Pen for short."
And they all shall troop into the kitchen, and Scotch will light the way. Or the Mage will who feels like an oncoming fate, wintering, ominous or auspicious and who's to say which way the coin will fall when it's no longer in movement.
Effusive, huh.
--
Are there seats in the kitchen, or an island devoid of cooking goods? Are there any unusual in appearance apparatus? Penelope composes herself against the island or takes a seat or considers an unusual in appearance apparatus with skeptical interest.
Forgive me, Penelope and Nicholas, but, and her heart gives a little leap and her eyebrows echo the sentiment. (Congratulations are) Pen glances at Nicholas, touching her left earlobe with the thumb and index finger of her left hand. The black crystal earring she is wearing sparks, dim radiance. The back of her thumb brushes against the side of her neck, the pulse-point, and she adjusts so is holding her earlobe between middle finger and index, and her thumb swipes upward. (in order, yes?) She'd leave him alone and palely loitering on a fairy hill and come back. She'd palely loiter herself, and his resonance'd be what was left. Hand drops back to her side. For a while now, and hard on the heels of that comment, "Thank you."
Fuck. Doesn't feel like the exact moment to express condolences over the loss of his wife. Pen can wait. Like a kid playing double-dutch waiting for the moment to jump in, except it's social games. Nick's glance back comes after she's done gazing at him with intent and wonder (though god help anybody who describes her so).
"And I was just asking Margot how long she'd been your apprentice, but I'm sorry you prefer the term 'intern'?" She sounds as if she's testing the word 'intern'; perhaps because in Pen's mind 'intern' is a direct analog to 'consor,' unpaid hopefuls who help with the grunt-work but don't get to do any work themselves. "How do you three know one another?"
During the introductions, Penelope's attention rests on Ned -- he's the newest and the quietest and so curiosity like a cat beelining for the person who likes cats least wants to spend time with him. The Hello gets an incline of her head and Nick (not to mention Andrés) also gets a " - but I go by Pen for short."
And they all shall troop into the kitchen, and Scotch will light the way. Or the Mage will who feels like an oncoming fate, wintering, ominous or auspicious and who's to say which way the coin will fall when it's no longer in movement.
Effusive, huh.
--
Are there seats in the kitchen, or an island devoid of cooking goods? Are there any unusual in appearance apparatus? Penelope composes herself against the island or takes a seat or considers an unusual in appearance apparatus with skeptical interest.
Forgive me, Penelope and Nicholas, but, and her heart gives a little leap and her eyebrows echo the sentiment. (Congratulations are) Pen glances at Nicholas, touching her left earlobe with the thumb and index finger of her left hand. The black crystal earring she is wearing sparks, dim radiance. The back of her thumb brushes against the side of her neck, the pulse-point, and she adjusts so is holding her earlobe between middle finger and index, and her thumb swipes upward. (in order, yes?) She'd leave him alone and palely loitering on a fairy hill and come back. She'd palely loiter herself, and his resonance'd be what was left. Hand drops back to her side. For a while now, and hard on the heels of that comment, "Thank you."
Fuck. Doesn't feel like the exact moment to express condolences over the loss of his wife. Pen can wait. Like a kid playing double-dutch waiting for the moment to jump in, except it's social games. Nick's glance back comes after she's done gazing at him with intent and wonder (though god help anybody who describes her so).
"And I was just asking Margot how long she'd been your apprentice, but I'm sorry you prefer the term 'intern'?" She sounds as if she's testing the word 'intern'; perhaps because in Pen's mind 'intern' is a direct analog to 'consor,' unpaid hopefuls who help with the grunt-work but don't get to do any work themselves. "How do you three know one another?"