“Aven,” he answers, “if it so pleases you.” He takes the offered hand and, in a similar show of politeness, feigns bringing her knuckles up to be kissed. He doesn’t touch them with his lips, of course– that is a tradition that’s long since been outdated and some would even take offense– but the gesture of a gentleman is something he’ll always seek to use.
“I must ask if you are very sure, Ms. Lalonde. As lovely as it is to stand in the rain and as harmless as it may be, catching a cold would be an inconvenience, would it not?” His voice is smooth like satin, a soft cream that soothed the ears.
“And though I’m sure you’ve heard it many times before,” he smiles faintly, “Just now, in fact; I must echo the sentiment. Your book was marvelous.”
“If it so pleases me?” Sure, they’re startled by the outdated gesture, but it’s a pleasant feeling. In fact, they’re glad that not all men have disregarded gentlemanly procedures such as these. A soft smile is offered as he does this, heliotrope irises seeming to glimmer with respect as they speak. “You make it sound like there are multiple aliases that you use, Aven,” They pause, a faint hum in the back of their throat before speaking once more. “Not that I blame you, honestly. I should be doing the same, what with my being ‘famous’ and all.” They restrain from making a snide comment about “most celebrities”, as it does, technically, apply to them as well.
Glancing up at the sky, then back to the male, they chuckle and shrug their shoulders. “I suppose it would be. It would give me a day off from the nonsense of my life, but, in a sense, you’re right.” With a nod of gratitude, they move to step under the umbrella offered, running their hand through their drenched hair, inwardly hoping that the rain would stop their hair from becoming unruly after it gets dry. “God knows I can’t have a day off from anything nowadays.” It’s a joke with a hidden meaning, but it falls short once they realize that they hardly get a day off anymore.
They can’t help but make a face for a moment at the compliment, letting out a huff. “Oh please, it’s hardly one of my best. I made that book when I was seventeen, maybe eighteen, at most. I’m surprised anyone actually reads the entire thing. It’s just a bunch of needless rambling about a fictional place, dark and twisted, hierarchical and tyrant viewpoints tangled up with mystifying and cruel wizardry with rather horrendous people in charge of such things.” They hum softly, making a ‘it’s whatever’ gesture. “It was more or less a journal for what I thought of the world. Just a bit more... enticing. No one really sees that, over the stupid dialogue and thickness of the book. ...But that’s just how it is, I suppose. Not that I’m not proud of hiding my anger at the world’s government and such; no, I’m entirely proud of that. I just wish more people would see what I meant with writing that. ...Younger me was such a smart lady.” Pause. “Wow, I rambled on a bit there, I apologize.”
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