poly_chromatic | (no subject)

Entry tags:

oc - saya wallace

(no subject)

These days come around and all that happens is that everything gets loud. But there are so many interesting people.

You may come into the Garage as long as you don't touch. Sticky fingers make enormous messes.

[ooc: do what you will!]

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And what of clean hands?

There you are.

[ He inhales, puffed up and prideful in seeing her again. Her face is lovely. He wants to hold her skull in his hands. ]

Did you miss me, Saya?

Yes, I missed you.

[She's already coming to find you, Nigel]

I thought you might be here.

[ He's on his way to the warehouse. If she's attentive to the background moving behind him, she'll no doubt know which path he's taking to her. ]

Better here than anywhere else. Things aren't half as interesting when you're dead and buried.

No no.

No, never.

[She sees him before he sees her, but that's all right. She's wearing a thick coat but somehow still manages to look sleek]

I wasn't there to take your eyes.

[She says that out loud, not into the device]

[ Sleek and lovely as always, Saya. Nigel looks at her, approvingly, before tipping his chin upwards, leaning in close to study the way her eyes adjust focus when he's that much nearer. His eyes are dark blue as always and undeniably intent. ]

Would you like it if I gave them to you now?

No.

[She touches his face, as usual, carefully, smoothly]

I would like it if you kept them now.

[ He lets her, holding still, almost obedient in the wake of her attention. ]

They'll go to waste, once I leave again.

[She considers that, and takes his hand, leading him, now. Anyone watching would think they were together, affectionate. In a way this is how Saya can be affectionate.]

I can take them later, then. Put them by my bedside.

[ Again, he seems to take some pride in that. Nigel Colbie has never been on for 'relationships' not in any true sense of the word. The last woman he loved had been his mother and, in exchange for her love, he'd cut off her head. It perhaps surprises no one that this is his way of expressing desire or appreciation or respect of some sort of Saya.

She leads him and he follows. He watches the way her shoes negotiate the pavement as she walks. ]

I doubt your guests would appreciate that.

[ Saya has two bedsides; Nigel knows. One guests see; one, no one does. ]

Not there.

Where you can watch me sleep.

[Her heels land perfectly, her fingers hot against his skin. She didn't put her gloves on, and this is intimate]

[ He exhales a laugh, his hand shifting in hers. Fingers moving along the inside of her wrist, feeling for a pulse or perhaps just more of that unnaturally warm skin. ]

I didn't think you were capable of sentiment, Saya. You must have missed me.