It's watching the dance that fascinates her--she can't tell, yet, how conscious it is for him, if he only knows there are Bad Behaviors and Good Ones, but for her, the concepts are thoroughly blended, especially right now. When Mitchell speaks into her ear, her eyes close and her heartbeat begins to race, and she knows--knows--he can feel it, that it's a thing of distraction, even if they both know that the natural course of things can't be taken where Hasibe is concerned.
In a way, she supposes, there's a bit of fun masochism for both of them there in potential; the idea doesn't bother her. She doesn't blush because of embarrassment or shame, but there's a rush of blood to her cheeks, at her throat, a tinge of color. She meets his gaze with pale gold-green eyes, steady, but stripped, however temporarily, of the terrible poise she usually has, that sense of being perfectly in control of her behavior, of all interaction. It's necessary to be unflappable sometimes when you play as many social games as Hasi does, but with a word--ache--he's momentarily stripped away some of those defenses.
Especially when he steps away. That she's not used to, either. Her gaze slides to the floor, and she stays where she is against the wall for a moment longer, pressing fingertips briefly to her collarbones as though that will ease her heartbeat, and then fixing her hair a bit. Smoothing down the edges, pretending she wasn't rattled in a way she likes.
"You--" Are unpredictable, Mitchell, but she doesn't say that. She exhales, pleased to find it less ragged than she was anticipating, and pushes away from the wall. "--I never know what I'm going to get with you."
It's fun finding out, though. She puts her coat on a hook in the foyer, and moves past Mitchell, booted heels clicking on the wooden floors, short skirt swishing along with her walk. The house even feels abandoned, empty. Not even a spirit to haunt it, which strikes her as almost sad--an old place like this should have some kind of presence there.
"I want to look upstairs," she calls over her shoulder, "there's a tower, they always hide the good things in towers. I am fully expecting a torture chamber and maybe someplace to practice Satanism."
And the walk will give her time to reassemble her composure more completely.
no subject
In a way, she supposes, there's a bit of fun masochism for both of them there in potential; the idea doesn't bother her. She doesn't blush because of embarrassment or shame, but there's a rush of blood to her cheeks, at her throat, a tinge of color. She meets his gaze with pale gold-green eyes, steady, but stripped, however temporarily, of the terrible poise she usually has, that sense of being perfectly in control of her behavior, of all interaction. It's necessary to be unflappable sometimes when you play as many social games as Hasi does, but with a word--ache--he's momentarily stripped away some of those defenses.
Especially when he steps away. That she's not used to, either. Her gaze slides to the floor, and she stays where she is against the wall for a moment longer, pressing fingertips briefly to her collarbones as though that will ease her heartbeat, and then fixing her hair a bit. Smoothing down the edges, pretending she wasn't rattled in a way she likes.
"You--" Are unpredictable, Mitchell, but she doesn't say that. She exhales, pleased to find it less ragged than she was anticipating, and pushes away from the wall. "--I never know what I'm going to get with you."
It's fun finding out, though. She puts her coat on a hook in the foyer, and moves past Mitchell, booted heels clicking on the wooden floors, short skirt swishing along with her walk. The house even feels abandoned, empty. Not even a spirit to haunt it, which strikes her as almost sad--an old place like this should have some kind of presence there.
"I want to look upstairs," she calls over her shoulder, "there's a tower, they always hide the good things in towers. I am fully expecting a torture chamber and maybe someplace to practice Satanism."
And the walk will give her time to reassemble her composure more completely.