Irene narrows her eyes and smiles, giving her an odd look- an are you quite real? look. Odessa's so wonderfully odd, and so hard to predict; she likes it.
And she follows her instructions.
She'd known, of course, what Odessa could do, had even planned on taking advantage of her ability, but opening her eyes and finding herself somewhere new is still distinctly unnerving. She spends a few seconds getting her bearings as best she can and carefully not looking too ruffled-
"Darling, it's charming," she says, already slipping it off her shoulders because sometimes her mind can't quite catch up with her body. She catches the fingertip of one glove in between her teeth and peels it off that way, purely for effect, shedding her outerwear with the look of someone used to undressing in style. "And so are you. Here."
She slips the gloves into the pocket and hands her the coat. She decided not to bother with the makeup over the bruises; she tried it and remembered that no, Kate could do this, but she can't, and then she determinedly stopped thinking about Kate and fixed her nails instead- now distinctly short, but neatly shaped and painted blood red. So, her injuries are visible; grazes on the palms of her hands, a bruises in all sorts of places but particularly her legs and, perhaps most notably, a neatly stitched gash on her left arm, the blue sutures not yet dissolved.
no subject
And she follows her instructions.
She'd known, of course, what Odessa could do, had even planned on taking advantage of her ability, but opening her eyes and finding herself somewhere new is still distinctly unnerving. She spends a few seconds getting her bearings as best she can and carefully not looking too ruffled-
"Darling, it's charming," she says, already slipping it off her shoulders because sometimes her mind can't quite catch up with her body. She catches the fingertip of one glove in between her teeth and peels it off that way, purely for effect, shedding her outerwear with the look of someone used to undressing in style. "And so are you. Here."
She slips the gloves into the pocket and hands her the coat. She decided not to bother with the makeup over the bruises; she tried it and remembered that no, Kate could do this, but she can't, and then she determinedly stopped thinking about Kate and fixed her nails instead- now distinctly short, but neatly shaped and painted blood red. So, her injuries are visible; grazes on the palms of her hands, a bruises in all sorts of places but particularly her legs and, perhaps most notably, a neatly stitched gash on her left arm, the blue sutures not yet dissolved.