She notes how he opens the door for her and clicks in her seatbelt with delighted amusement. The cynical part of her dismisses these actions as mere window dressing to entice women (and men, she assumes) into his bed. Even if this is true, she enjoys the effort made at her expense.
At his compliment (well, the beginning of one), she smiles widely and turns her whole body toward the driver’s seat. “It’s very…” she echoes the way he trails off. She looks down at her outfit as he utters the word leather. She had been going for dominatrix Barbie when she dressed that morning.
She leans over the center console to poke his temple when the conversation abruptly shifts to ice cream. “You have an unusual brain. I like that in a person.” She traces the shell of his ear with the tip of a pink-pointed nail. “You know, I’ve always thought that the people who wear hoods, baseball caps, and big sunglasses to conceal their identities make themselves more conspicuous.” She reclines back in the plush passenger seat, legs crossed. “As much as I enjoy the idea of you stripping, someone needs to watch this horse-powered chariot."
Her smile deepens as he says, ‘For my goddess.’ Jeez, he was such a ham. He really was laying it on thick. It was transparent but somehow still romantic. Her gaze narrows in on his devilishly handsome face. It was then that she realized that, while his features were pretty, his true appeal lay in how he carried himself.
"And I don’t see you as a manservant, for the record,” she says, then briefly pauses and adds: “Unless that sort of thing turns you on.” Her tone isn’t exactly that of a sexy come-on but rather a genuine inquiry.
He smiles, his mind was indeed unusual. He appreciated the compliment, answering it with a proud smile. She too had an unusual brain. He felt the same, enjoyed a left from norm. It probable drew him to people, their not so normalness. Because how fucking boring was normal.
"You're not wrong. A hat, mask and big shades really just says look at me. I find a lot of recovering surgery patients in that get up in my neighborhood. Getting their walk in for fresh air in the wee hour of the morning. But I know they think it makes them invisible so I play pretend with them", he says steering the car away from annoyingly slow Kia. "But maybe thats the point. You see the big shades and that says leave me alone, you don't see me, so your eyes avoid the get up.", he says slowing at the red light.
Somewhere, somewhere there is an attendant itching, scratching and feeling dread. Probably at the fucking fortress of a home where the living are dead and the dead lay sleeping. Funny enough, there was an actual fortress, atop a hill, looking over the sea. It’s entrance seemed impractical, the deep forests impenetrable. There generations of the old bloodline came squawking into the world, except Souk. He was second of his generation to be born at that new Estate. In those halls an attendant was falling over at the idea of a little prince being manservant to another.
It stretched his grin from ear to ear. Even if he posed it, hearing it back was just too funny, too fictional, an absurdity. Next he would be in their little suits and pockets full of tricks. Wiping blood with hankerchiefs unlimited.
“It could be”, he answers. "I'll only know when I try. As for the chariot, an idiot would try stealing something this custom. I would enjoy that chase", he smiled then turned right, vehicle then pulling up in front off the small artisan shoppe. The vehicle comes over some on the sidewalk, leaving enough room for vehicles to pass behind.
He turns off the engine. "We will go in together. I know the owner. No gawking at your goddess glory, promise", he eases from the car, making quick strides to get to the passenger side. The door opens and he extends his hand to help her out. These motions come second nature to him, without a thought. Not a way to flatter, not an act to seem better in another's eyes, just built into the framework of his character.
The door opens and he lets her walk in ahead of him, following in and ringing the bell to get attention. Out of a door built into the wall, a medium built man emerges, white attire and aprom a contrast on his dark skin. He greets the two in korean then takes a second look at Souk, a grin emerging lifting his face before the greeting in Xhosa and a nickname, the little trickster, the clicks ever sounding musical to the vampires ears.
Souk repeats the greeting in the owner's tongue, adding a small bow, respect given to the elder, even if he didn't look it. "You already know what I want, Amahle", he says then looks to Mayari, "I've been here a few times in the past month", he explains.
Amahle looks to the petite woman, humming as he thinks. "Not strawberry huh?" he asks then looks back to Souk with a questioning look that vanishes soon enough. "Look around, you can sample anything and mix in any side you like," he says before washing his hands then donning gloves. Souk walks to the counter and looks at the selection. Custom created and homemade flavors, sourced all over the world. " Can I have the dark chocolate waffle cone pieces crushed with caramel?", he asks then looks over to Mayari with a smile. "I can't explain the sweet tooth. Maybe I'm growing."
Amahle scoffs but then smiles as he prepares to create the order he knows too well.
dailybridgerton
stormborns
turnnoffyourmind
tangentwithtanner
origamiaround
jbbartram-illu
germansingergirl
snowghoul
areudirty
