a crease found the space between her brows as she took in the sight of the young man before her. bow boy. she’d heard here and there of his mischievous antics—how could she not have?—and if there was something she’d grown to appreciate over the last few years it was the ability to participate in antics. a part of her long remained inclined towards such actions, though by now she’d learned to settle for those that were delivered by tongue and cheek. not every waggish effort had to be full-blown, after all. a little verbal sparring could be just as satisfying. at his question of whether or not the notorious oscar wilde was gay, august merely shrugged. to be plain, she didn’t know. perhaps she’d look into it sometime and get back to him. the thought momentarily peeked her interest, but just as quickly slipped from her mind. it was, honestly, the less interesting aspect of the conversation, anyway.
her weight shifted from one svelte leg to the other, head tilting just so as he continued talking. like she was genuinely considering what he was saying—and perhaps it was because that’s exactly what she was doing. in truth, it was always hard to tell with her. consideration and criticism walked a fine line, after all. ain’t that kinda boring? it crossed august’s mind how ironic the response was, considering the first part of the quote, but decidedly let that comment live and die in her head. her line of sight then shifted to his nose, where his hand had just been. “i feel like you sort of dodged the question with more questions, but because i technically asked what we think…” she lowered the book so that she was holding it just below her torso, fingers curling around its spine. her eyes returned to his, her bright blue meeting his own. “no, probably not. i feel like there isn’t much to be curios about when it comes to a tired man. a man who settles. you know—” august’s brows perked up some, posture straightening up simultaneously, “i’ve never liked the connotations around settling. settling down. gross.” a quiet chuckle left her, though her tone suggested she wasn’t at all joking. “—and by the way, i’d said ex-lover. no genders implied.” the comment prompted another slip of laughter, this time implying that she was just poking and prodding.
Dumbfounded expression washed down by the apathy that naturally hung from his face every morning hit him as she remarked how he hadn’t really answered his question; Asterius was pretty much hunching over the girl, but after the realization, he instinctly pulled back to recollect the past minute of conversation to see what he had missed. This didn’t happen very often, he considered his mind sharp and his reflexes sharper, but maybe the vices were catching up. “Shit”, he muttered to himself after his cloudy brain considered the possibility of permanent damage due odd substances ----but ah, the idea of just accidentally missing his queue to respond didn’t really reach him. He tended to overreact, please excuse him.
“Wh--- what was the question again?”
His inquiry was dropped with a little frown since it had been few times he had felt out of place in a conversation, “waitwaitwaitwait...”, he stopped her raising a palm up, “you asked me about our opinion and if I thought Wilde was a simp or some shit like that”, Asterius recalled. “Well, I busted out my opinion, doll, marriage is shit”, he concluded, “and I’m glad we are on the same page; the idea of giving up my freedom for some white picket fence? Nah, I’m a citizen of the world. Not yet, but you’ll hear of me, travelling around and gathering some Guinness records here and there”, he expressed with a little side-smirk, “and regarding the author of your book, I think someone broke up with him and I know you didn’t specify gender, but if he is speaking about women with so much confidence, he was either about to marry a lady or he had to many girl friends”, he shrugged. “What’s your take on him?”
