Well, at least he’s trying. Brownie points for how wholesome he’s being about it. Despite his stammering, it comes across rather effortless. ❛ You have no idea, asalam … ❜ Her left eyebrow arches, her gaze jarringly unyielding in its commitment to his. She refuses to be the first to look away. Her pride won’t let her. Once he yields, this charming stranger, she smooths out her facial expression somewhat. An easy simper lifts the corners of her mouth. He’s cute, all right. She’ll give him that.
Scepticism crosses her face in a fleeting frown once he finally reveals what he’s here for. ❛ Huh. ❜ Kane’s not in the habit of saving just everyone; not if it takes more than a quick, effortless snap of his fingers to avert a crisis. Those instances don’t often occur though, and even then he’s reluctant for fear of persecution from either above or below. Oh, this kid has no idea. That makes connecting the dots all the easier. Perry knows of only one person he’s saved recently, and she has no reason to suspect more. He wouldn’t keep that sort of thing from her.
She’d have challenged him on his alleged closeness to Kane — and just how welcome he might be here — if not for the next question. She lowers her chin and raises her eyebrows.
❛ Tone it down, handsome. Your pick-up lines are bordering on the glib now, ❜ she warns, yet makes a point of maintaining some tongue-in-cheek lightness. She’s having a good time with him and his interest, really, but without some innovation in his approaches, she expects her disengagement and dismissal. That’d just be a shame. ❛ Find a better way to ask, and I might give it to you. ❜ Her voice lowers into something just above a whisper. It’s an invitation she expects he’ll be receptive to.
Without any immediate plans to give him what he’s after, she turns on her heel and walks off, towards where the gravel path meets the single step by Kane’s front door. ❛ Come along. I’ll let you in. ❜
A hand lifts to clutch at his chest, nearly collapsing into the dirt. Asalam, he didn’t know what that meant, but he wanted to hear it again here’s to hoping it didn’t mean asshole. Something told him, however, that it’s meaning was much kinder. Damien Sinclair was usually a great deal more refined or so he liked to think. He was smoother, didn’t stutter, had a great deal more brainpower to come up with better lines. But the minute he saw her, he felt every single brain cell implode.
He imagined their future together and that dopey grin of his only grew in size. If anyone who knew him and Amelia, it would shock them to their very core to know that the assassin had raised him. The woman who drank her feelings, who hid every piece of information like it was some grand secret regardless of how she tried to have others perceive her, she had a bleeding heart just as he did. A heart too big for their chest, a heart that felt too much, a hear that had too much love to offer. Damien was more willing to feel all the things he was given, however, even if it would just end up have someone driving his heart into the dirt.
❝ Yikes ! ❞ He grimaced slightly. ❝ Glib ? Damn, ❞ he sighed heavily. ❝ It wasn’t even a line ! I think I might actually die if I don’t know your name. ❞ The sincerity in his voice was aching. ❝ But... but no, forget that. I’ll think of something better ! ❞ Confident, he puffed out his chest and crossed his arms. He expected to come up with something right then and there. It took a few minutes of silence to prove to him, he wasn’t coming up with shit.
❝ Sorry, I’m usually a little bit smarter than this. I just saw you and kind of went, uh, stupid ❞ She turned on her heel and he blinked, hurrying after her. ❝ Uh, is that okay ? Should I knock ? Yell out ‘Honey, I’m home’ ? I don’t want to intrude ! ❞ A good boy with good manners; very shocking coming from Amelia.
