halloween town // daislee
"Iām a lot of things, but a liar isnāt one of them!" he countered, feigning being offended by such a notion. It wasnāt beyond him to tell a white lie here and there, but Lee was an honest guy, (besides his obvious closed-book policy about his feelings, that is). True, her voice was nowhere near as exaggerated as Lee had made it out to be - plus his accent was atrocious at best - but her voice was distinct. If he had been blindfolded and sheād called him from across the room, heād have known who it was.
When she asked him to stop laughing, it only sent him further into his spell, and he shook his head apologetically. It felt good to laugh though. Lee often couldnāt remember what it was like to truly feel happy unless he was in one of these moments, and honestly, he could afford to make up for lost time for all those moments he was feeling depressed, āIāll try," he offered, still unable to catch his breath. āJust annoying? Daisy, please, Iām a professional nuisance! And admittedly, I think Iād enjoy seeing a ripped as fuck WWE guy in pink."
"Smiling like wh-" he had tried to repeat, only to suddenly get a hand right in his face. He laughed again when she did, swatting her palm away in case his nose got permanently pushed in like one of those ugly-cute dogs, āWhat was that for?!" Lee didnāt know anything about Daisy, who she was seeing - if she even was seeing anyone - but that had never stopped him from letting loose complements before. It came as a surprise when she started to list off words that he was not allowed to call her. Again, there was this feeling of familiarity as she scowled at the words, āYou do realize that getting all huffy at complements is completely counterproductive, seeing as it only makes you cuter, right?" He grinned again,Ā "Can I use reverse psychology then? Iāll just call you not cute when I think you are. And I donāt think a list will be necessary."
He took it as a challenge when Daisy said she didnāt believe that he knew every song in Les Mis. Oh, if only she knew how wrong she was. That infamous mischievous glint seemed to appear in his eye as he imagined the orchestra playing in his head. Raising from his seat, he began to sing, "My band of soaks, my den of dissoluteās, my dirty jokes, my always pissed as newts. My sons of whores spend there lives in my inn, homing pigeons homing in, they fly through my doorsā¦ And their moneyās good as yours!"
He pulled the chair forward, offering it to Daisy as he continued, "Welcome, Monsieur, sit yourself down! And meet the best innkeeper in town. As for the rest, all of āem crooks: rooking their guests and crooking the books!" And though Lee prided himself on his underpracticed acting skills, he couldnāt keep the little sneer off his face to get fully into character. āSeldom do you see honest men like me, a gent of good intent whoās content to beā¦"
And then he stepped back, belting out the lyrics without a care in the world. The role of Thenardier always had amused him, so playing him - even if as a joke - was a lot more fun than he could handle all at once, "Master of the house! Doling out the charm! Ready with a handshake and an open palm!" He offered his hand on cue, taking it back in an exaggerated motion as he continued, "Tells a saucy tale, makes a little stir, customers appreciate a bon-viveur! Glad to do a friend a favor, doesnāt cost me to be niceā¦ But nothing gets you nothing, everything has got a little price!"
And with the āgorgeousā new look he was wearing, he was sure that his little performance was beyond hilarious. But, that was Lee for you. He wasnāt an entertainer for nothing.
"Isn't WWE an animal help.. thing?" Her eyebrow raised yet again, Lee had a knack for causing that reaction in her. But, no, Daisy was never too intelligent - not that knowing the difference between an animal charity and a wrestling company will pop up on her Russian A-Level - and her rather low IQ was no secret to most. Hell, you'd only have to have a short conversation with her to know she wasn't quite the brightest crayon in the box. She was the girl that, when told Pluto was no longer a planet, asked where it went. The girl that, when given a twelve out of one hundred score on her maths exam, asked what that was as a percentage. The list of stupid stuff she done was endless. Just as Carrie. She'll have enough stories and running jokes to fill a book. "A professionalĀ nuisance? Is that what you're studying?" She joked, although she had no doubt Lee would try and pass it off that he was doing a Masters in being a little shit. "I might like you more if you weren't as much of a nuisance."
"You know what it was for! For bloody smiling like that!" Ā She answered, her eyes wide and energetic, yet exhausted. She piped back up again after he said the word yet again and she was pretty sure, after that, the only colour in her face was from annoyance. She really did hate those words - she had her reasons, too, though she'd never get into them - and tones of serious ran through her voice.Ā "I said don't fucking use that word. Or huffy. Add that to the list." Daisy rolled her eyes. Again. She could hear her mother's voice; "One day, you're going to roll your eyes so far up your head, they won't come back down again!",Ā or her father's slightly less kind voice; "I swear, if you don't stop rolling those eyes, I'll slap them back down!". She almost wanted to roll her eyes once more at the thought but she didn't dare, as though her parents were right inside her head, ready to pounce.Ā "And they're not compliments," She continued, bringing herself back into reality, "They're gross and annoying and.. not nice, if you really think about them long enough." Her arms found themselves tightly knotting over one another, tying around her stomach, looking stern yet poised.Ā "I just don't like them. Go call every other person in the world cute or whatever the fuck you wanna say, I don't give a shit, just.. not me, it bugs me."
Never had the descriptive phrase her eyes lit up been more appropriate to describe a person than to describe Daisy's face in that moment when Lee began bellowing out one of her favourite songs from a long-time favourite, Les Mis. Her eyes followed him as he bounced around, singing, and her grin grew with every word he sang, in that Cockney, British accent that she had no idea where it came from - nobody in France spoke like that but, for some reason, the slightly poorer characters in the film were always given that accent.Ā Even though he was only messing around, he really did have a nice voice. She could have listened to it for quite some time, she thought, but didn't say that out loud. Daisy supposed he would have heard it a million and one times. She didn't need to reiterate it.
Very courteously and very theatrically, Daisy sat on the chair Lee offered to her, holding the edges of her skirt to keep her privacy intact as she crouched down onto it slightly.Ā Her legs crossing dramatically beneath her polka-dot fabric, she rested her hands on her knee and leant back. She mumbled a smallĀ merci, too, just to top it all off. Lee sang around her and she smiled some more, laughing at all the particularly funny places and never taking her eyes off him. It was particularly funny, she thought, how in character he got, how quickly, how easily, how passionately. That must have said something about him, she observed further.
But poor Daisy couldn't stay seated for much longer, not with the echo of one of her favourite musical songs buzzing around in her ears, still, and the bundle of energy that was Lee flitting around the room, his loudness contagious, as usual.Ā Before he could carry on himself, she shot up out of her ladylike possession on her chair and took one step up onto her neat bed. Well, not so neat now, after she trampled all over it and began singing, as loud as she possible could, "Master of the house, keeper of the zoo," Without even realising what she was doing, her arms shot upwards, not quite reaching the ceiling but, if she tried and stretched enough, her fingertips could probably brush the ivory, rippled hood of her room.Ā How even the ceilings in this place looked expensive, she would never know. "Ready to relieve 'em of a sou or two," she continued, soon after, "Watering the wine, making up the weight, picking' up their knick-knacks when they can't see straight." Daisy crept closer to the edge of the bed until her toes hung off, holding out her arms - bruised and scarred beneath those long sleeves of hers - to invite Lee upwards with her, her eyes wide, as usual, and her head nodding very gently. "Everybody loves a landlord, everybody's bosom friend. I do whatever pleases, Jesus! Won't I bleed 'em in the end!"
