( closed ) there are no beautiful surfaces without a terrible depth;

[asklepios]

Who: "Vanessza Bernát" and Lucius Malfoy
What: An encounter in a bookstore.
Where: ...a bookstore.
When: After Christmas.
Notes: One day Benny will wear a color.
Warnings: None as yet.

Benevenuta has always enjoyed the wintertime for the things mortals and immortals alike to choose to mark (or not), but modern celebrations are still a relatively recent introduction to her life; watching their invention by the Victorians was one thing, but reemerging in the late forties to discover that they were apparently 'ancient' had been a cute moment. The point being, it doesn't much bother her to go without and after she's sent out her small gifts (Ayse got a bigger jar, of whiskey and apple jelly) and sifted through the jewelry box that arrived for Catenrat (she needs to buy a better lock for it, she thinks), she's more or less done for the season 'til New Year's and unconcerned about it. She'd call her father, some years, but not every single one and it isn't so strange to be mostly alone.

There's any number of clichés about her kind, that way.

So, in hat and gloves and coat with sensibly flat shoes, she's investigating the offerings a bookstore that is not currently in the throes of a post-gifting sale (it's quieter than some others which are, and she doesn't feel the pressing need to get up close and personal with everybody who wants a copy of the latest Baedal publications) and carrying her scarf in hand, sifting through the history section with a few titles already under her arm.

Comments

[amourpropre]

The 'hm' that follows that is equal parts dismissive and amused, and he flicks a glance to the book she's obtained before turning it back for the shelves. "Or you could simply appeal to some innate, competitive quality I may or may not possess." He glances for the store front.

Not that he's wary of anyone-- seeing him banter with a Muggle. But it's almost a compulsive instinct. "When suits you?" comes out more curt and conscious than he intended.


[ idk why i deem this better but at least i wrote it while awake? sry. ]

[asklepios]

Benevenuta's fleeting scrutiny is amused, and even more open than he is she's still a little bit muted, somehow. She is comfortably confident that Lucius Malfoy has a competitive streak, probably about three miles wide. It may be more of a competitive motorway system, with an assortment of lanes and speeds.

"The end of the week would be fine. Veerdi." 'Going native'. She's been doing it for decades.

[amourpropre]

"Very well."

It's helpful, being self-employed - nearly any day will do. Why the universe saw fit to give Lucius Malfoy that much control over his own existence is a mystery, but considering how he began, it can only improve, or limp along in discontent equilibrium. Amused scrutiny is tolerated, offering no more argument than a raised eyebrow, before Lucius consciously steers his attention back to the book in his hands.

The one he had come here for in the first place. "I'll leave you to your books," he says, "and allow the cashier to overcharge me." He steps back, then, to allow her her browsing, and to follow his own path back to the store front.