[Barclay makes a helpless little gesture of his free hand.] Another contemporary reference beyond my ken, [he says, lightly.] But I suppose I haven't asked you to take mercy on me, and I'm not about to start now.
These are for you. [Obviously. The flowers. He presents them as if he's done it before, but he hasn't. Not since Magda, any rate. The concept of giving flowers to an object of one's affection had existed in his mind as a performative luxury reserved for people with better lives than he. But he plays it off pretty casual. They're beautiful though; the roses nearly ink-colored, though they'll betray a deep purple tinge under a bright enough light. Calla lilies swirled in in piano-key white.
It'd be a little much for a different girl. A little too Goth. But he's caught onto a few contemporary things since he came here; since he met her.] Are you cross with me, about the wardrobe request?
no subject
These are for you. [Obviously. The flowers. He presents them as if he's done it before, but he hasn't. Not since Magda, any rate. The concept of giving flowers to an object of one's affection had existed in his mind as a performative luxury reserved for people with better lives than he. But he plays it off pretty casual. They're beautiful though; the roses nearly ink-colored, though they'll betray a deep purple tinge under a bright enough light. Calla lilies swirled in in piano-key white.
It'd be a little much for a different girl. A little too Goth. But he's caught onto a few contemporary things since he came here; since he met her.] Are you cross with me, about the wardrobe request?