It's a nice skirt, and Lucius isn't one to label anything gaudy for all that, these days, he dresses like a raven that is either having a sleek day or a ruffled day. She crosses her legs and he glances down where it opens, red shoes an elegant reminder for him to look up again and at her question. He can imagine what his answer would have been, a couple of years ago. Certainly not.
But then again, he wouldn't even be giving her the light of day, let alone attempting to earn some of her's. He's not sure he can afford to be insulted.
He isn't, either. "No," he says, simply, a slightly wry upturn at the corner of his mouth, chasing after some fleeting reflection in the bar top as he responds. "Typically. Stylish, but for someone else's sensibilities, I imagine. Yourself?"
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But then again, he wouldn't even be giving her the light of day, let alone attempting to earn some of her's. He's not sure he can afford to be insulted.
He isn't, either. "No," he says, simply, a slightly wry upturn at the corner of his mouth, chasing after some fleeting reflection in the bar top as he responds. "Typically. Stylish, but for someone else's sensibilities, I imagine. Yourself?"