sweethymns | Tᕼᙓ ᕼOᒪIᗪᗩY ᑭOᔕT

They're not that unaware... I mean, I get my fair share of pick ups and hopefuls that drop by the cafe.

[The Midnight Grind is a triple threat with Iona, Monts, and Oren.]

No one uses seductress anymore though.

Edited 2015-12-08 08:40 (UTC)

Educate me on your more 'modern' words, then. Some of the people here have asked me why I speak like an old man.

[ Aka: the kids brave enough to talk to Claude when he's around. ]

Do I?

[She crosses her arms as she leans against the counter and grins.]

Well, in my time sir, they would say that I have "game."

[The kids have wondered about Claude since he and Gus are a curiosity in themselves. No magic, no ESP, but regulars of the Grind nonetheless at this point. Emily, the young precognitive seemed to have a faint fondness for Claude (even though her dedication to marrying Oren when she grew up was stronger).]

As for you, I don't think you talk that much like an old man. You don't nearly complain enough for that. But to them, it's probably old.

Remind me to be more curmudgeonly from now on, then I haven't been nearly offputting enough.

[ But that aside, he tries out this new phrase; it sounds utterly ridiculous to him, but here he goes. ]

So, Miss Iona. How many people recently have tried to capitalize on your... 'game'.

[ He sounds like a 60 year old asking about 'The Google'. ]

[It's alright Claude, this is fun for Iona... She suppresses a chuckle, shaking her head as she pours coffee into a cup for him.]

It's not really capitalizing, it's... [She gestures with one hand, trying to find a succinct way to explain it.]

So, when people say, "He/She has game," it kinda means, they're a head turner. Someone who catches other people's attention, hooks them in, with their everything. They are effectively, good players.

[She pours some coffee with the peppermint for herself and brings both cups over to join Claude, setting his share down in front of him.]

If we're talking specifics here, Oren's got more game than I do.

[ A lot of this flies over his head, admittedly. Players? Game? It's all a bit foreign, but he can appreciate the analogy of people being a game. Maybe that's the slightly twisted interpretation of this, but Claude will be Claude.

He smiles as sweetly as he can manage, though coming from Claude, it looks more scheming than anything else. A Cheshire-cat smile. ]

I see. That would mean that you're playing to your positive traits. [ He doesn't have to contend against Oren's game, because seriously. Look at the guy. But: ] Now, then. How much 'game' do you think I have?

[ Oh-so-sweetly. His sugar is deceptive, of course. ]

[Great Claude, you're just making her tug at her cardigan, pulling it closer around her shoulders with that smile. She seats herself, raising a brow.]

You? Uh...

[There is a suspiciously long pause here. And she sips her coffee, keeping her eyes locked on him as she does so.]

Don't you present yourself as irritating? The opposite of having game? Like. Having none at all?

[Ah, count on Iona to be casually blunt.]

Ah, of course. I wouldn't be charming if I could avoid it, but I've at least some appearances to adhere to. I can't be completely despicable all the time, you know.

[ Innocently, breezily. He leans forward in his chair, eyes glittering and lips pulled up into something carefully crafted; he smells blood in the water, and her discomfort is, in a way, his motivation.

(Jerk.) ]

Now. I wonder if you're avoiding answering because the answer is unflattering, or because you have something far more embarrassing to reveal about yourself.

[ Claude, behave. ]

[How does Iona react? Well.

Instead of retreating she. Takes one hand and immediately, RUFFLES HIS HAIR YEAH TAKE THAT]

Unfortunately for you, I'm very forward. Forward as in, I'm straightforwardly thinking that I need to pick on you before you pick on me.

[They are Adults.gif]

[ Adults Doing Adult Things: The Thread

His hair is already a mess from the rain, so all Iona manages is to make Claude blink some more rain out of his eyes, then grin a little more wolfishly at her admission that he's began picking on her. Ah, how excellent. ]

Your staunch refusal to answer my question is very telling, mademoiselle.

[Her hand hovers in the air a bit above his head before she settles back down with her coffee cup.]

You're... Probably on an acceptable level of game.

[She says oh so cautiously.]

But you are annoying. Which, I have assumed from Day 1 that you put a lot of effort into that instead of being charming.

[Making a quotation gesture with one pair of fingers here.]

'Acceptable'.

[ He is so... smug, not because he's happy that he apparently has 'game' (the notion is ridiculous to him), but because Iona admitted it!!! She admitted it!!!

And, of course, he's willing to bring this charade to the next level— because he's noticed that he's sitting right underneath a sprig of mistletoe, and he's going to milk this for all he can. ]

Right on all accounts. Though, I wonder if you'd prefer seeing me when I'm being less 'annoying'.

[She sees that mistletoe, but... Ahahaha, it's not like anyone has to follow through with that, ahahaha, it's just a silly tradition, ahahahaaaaaaaa... She will not mention it, nope.

This has suddenly become a dangerous battle of wills here.]

I can't say I'd prefer it if I never saw it in the first place?

[ Dangerous, certainly. He has an intellectual curiosity about this, being that most people handle him with gloves all the time, as if he's something that shouldn't be tampered with or talked to. The Black Sheep, the Bastard Child.

No one could honestly be attracted to him, of course— he doesn't believe that that's possible, or that he's capable of being loved at all— but Iona can be horribly naive (in his eyes), and maybe the small portion inside his cold, dead heart recognizes that as, say, endearing.

Maybe. ]

Would you like to see it?

[ He's a liar, he'll still be annoying even when he pretends not to be: that's the price of insincerity. This is precisely what makes him so repellent, but it's the only thing he knows, after all. ]

Iona. [ uh oh, he took away the 'Miss' ] I wonder if you'd come a bit closer.

You want me to mess up your hair again?

Will you?

[ He edges closer, angling his face somewhat...suggestively. ]

Come, come. My hands are empty, and you should know by now that I'm all talk.

[ Another Lie. ]

Edited 2015-12-10 07:54 (UTC)

[Iona would like to think she is pretty smooth around guys. Like. Real smooth. It takes a lot to ruin her rhythm, the ones where she can step and glide around as easily as she pleased, charming, bright, but evasive.

... When it comes to this guy though? More often than not, she finds herself wanting to snipe back (playfully at least), not wanting to back down, but having to retreat more than she would have liked.

Man, Claude is really annoying.

She sighs, standing up, downing the rest of her coffee.]

At least drink your coffee, will you?

At the very least.

[ And Claude likes to fancy that he's unflappable: mostly because he's been taught to be, and he is, despite it all, a creature of habit. Iona is charming, of course, but when you're raised to be able to sidestep charm in favor of pragmatism, some things are bound to get lost along the way.

(Then again, people don't operate like that— people aren't statistics, no matter how easy it is to render reactions in cause-and-effect. Claude is no exception to this rule.)

When she stands up, though, this dumb shitlord reaches out and brushes her hands with his fingers. ]

Leaving so soon?

[Ah.

Her back is turned to him when she feels his fingers across her hands and she turns a quarter of a way towards him. Sometimes, it's those small and minute movemets that are the most effective on her, instead of grand gestures. Iona is honest with herself about the things that attract gravitates her towards another, so why is it that she's denying it right now? Because it's him?

Well. Yeah. It's Claude. Iona isn't so blind as to think he's doing this out of anything... Anything else. Whatever that 'else' is.

(She knows perfectly well what it is, she just doesn't want to try these uncertain waters so to speak.)]

Maybe. Looks like you aren't though.

[There's a side way glance up at the mistletoe.]

Just your luck, hm?

My luck, so to speak, is abysmal.

[ He laughs as he says so, as if it doesn't bother him that he's so self-deprecating when it comes down to the wire. It's a harmless joke, at any event, and he's appropriately good-humored (ha ha) when she points out how very stuck he is.

The hand retracts, and his elbow settles back on the table where he can rest his chin on his hand once more. ]

Though. I suppose it isn't too abysmal. You wouldn't be able to turn down a cry for help, could you?

[ And so: as sweetly and 'sincerely' as he can manage: ]

'Help'.

[ His eyes flit closed, and his smile spreads. ]

You forgot to say, "S'il vous plaît."

[Her expression and tone of voice is cool as cool can be. She is unflappable and immovable. Clearly.]

Edited 2015-12-13 06:35 (UTC)

[ He still keeps up his veneer of sweetness, though it falls apart slightly at the seams at how stone-faced Iona is. There's some genuine amusement tucked around the corners, there. ]

S'il vous plaît, chère mademoiselle.

Mm. Good enough.

[She sets her cup aside on another table so... That she can plop herself onto the table, right in front of Claude (don't worry, she moved his coffee aside too.)

Her arms and legs are crossed, as if to say, "Your move."]

So you are all talk, right?

Without a doubt. I'm completely incapable of making good on my threats— I'm just a doctor, after all.

[ But he gets up on his feet (it's the only thing he can do, rooted to this spot as he is), cranes inwards with his palms flat on either side of Iona's knees. ]

So you've nothing to worry about.

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