Tᕼᙓ ᕼOᒪIᗪᗩY ᑭOᔕT

[formidable]

Let's celebrate. ➤ For all holiday related madness. ➢ "Obligatory Christmas Music".

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[infusion]

[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]

[pragnanz]

[ 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.

[infusion]

[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.]

[pragnanz]

'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'.

[infusion]

[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?

[pragnanz]

[ 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.

[infusion]

You want me to mess up your hair again?

[pragnanz]

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. ]

[infusion]

[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?

[pragnanz]

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?

[infusion]

[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?

1/2

[pragnanz]

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?

[pragnanz]

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

'Help'.

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

[infusion]

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.]

[pragnanz]

[ 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.

[infusion]

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?

[pragnanz]

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.

[infusion]

[She doesn't budge from her spot or break her current position, except to raise a brow at Claude as he breaks his to move in near her.]

I don't know... Seems like you could give yourself a little more credit.

I worry somewhat.

[If nothing else, Iona has to admit that this is getting interesting. To put it mildly.

Up close to her, there's a faint scent of a floral and sweet perfume mixed with the bitter notes of coffee and herbal leafy tea... It's very, her so to speak.]

[pragnanz]

[ Claude smells as artificial as the rest of him: lacquered wood, sterilizing alcohol, pressed laundry. He smells exactly the way he should— nothing more, nothing less.

Iona, on the other hand, seems to radiate warmth. Claude doesn't seek it out, exactly, but he leans in an inch closer. Examining, with that same smile on his face. ]

Should I give you my word that I won't move? Besides, you're the one helping me. It would be untowards if I helped myself.

[infusion]

That would depend on how good you are with promises.

[She lets out a sigh releasing one hand so that it can move her thick, wavy hair to one side. And with that one hand she gestures as she talks while glancing at the side (because if she looks into his eyes, it becomes even more difficult to keep her composure and they're not a half-bad shade of green and god what has she gotten herself into)]

And also, I kind of wonder if you ever worry about what I can do.

[pragnanz]

Not very good, on a case by case basis.

[ He has no difficulty admitting to that, and he breathes a short half-chuckle to himself while he tilts his head and looks at Iona expectantly, like a particularly self-assured cat.

(At this point, he's not sure what he's proving, except for the fact that he'd like to prove it.) ]

As for worrying about what you're capable of, certainly. But if your intentions were to harm me, you would've done so a long time ago, I wager.

[infusion]

[There's a half-snort from her, but she smiles regardless.]

Yeah. Maybe. I won't lie and say I wasn't half-tempted to do so before.

[That's what the nose pinching is for!]

But, I'm dangerous in other ways too.

[pragnanz]

Are you. A regular wolf in sheep's clothing, then.

[ He plays along, the operative word there being 'playing'. Goads, even. ]

How are you dangerous, then? Or is that a secret that you'll use against me when I least expect it?

[infusion]

I got you rooted here don't I?

[Brown eyes look into his green ones, finally.]

I'm off to a great start.

[The fact that they're the only two people in the cafe is palpable, a tension that would have been too much if it were anyone else that didn't have the poise and composure of this pair.

She makes her first move...

Which is ruffling his hair again.]

It's nice to see you're trying so hard though.

[pragnanz]

[ Oh, for God's sake. He would have laughed if he weren't playing the part of the innocent, though that in itself is getting tiresome— how do people keep up being coy, is it even worth it?

But he feels her fingers in his hair and she's finally made eye contact, which is as much of an opportunity as any to crane his neck and get even closer. His nose almost touches Iona's.

(This really isn't that difficult, he thinks to himself.) ]

I'd like to think I'm being attentive.