is currently employed and on the verge of starting classes at a community college. not only are they quite busy with these things, but they are also a freelance artist seeking commissions. please be patient and understand that roleplaying is merely a hobby.
Decency was a word not often found in the vocabulary of Silas Cobb, unless it was applied to something of value. A decent singer. A decent day’s profits. But never to the man himself, not by his own words nor by those of any others.
“Now, that surprises me,” he says fluttering closer to her with a veritable skip in his step. “Ya strike me as the kind of woman who’d enjoy a good piece. Violins. Am I right? String quartet, something classical. No, baroque. Bach, if I had to be specific about it.”
Rosalind had been able to presume as much. If not from the manner in which he’d advertised, than by the approach he’d attempted moments afterward. The fellow ought have been confiding under the theory which ensured his charm would glamour every woman and halt her in the heels she sported– all but the redhead, it seemed.
”Perhaps, but my intentions for today had not included the purchase of a record. No matter how engaging the sound or how impressionable you might be.“
The lady was not like the doctors who baited them with colorful words & toys. She was not nice nor rude, just in the fine line of the in between. Thinking of her world as good & bad it was odd to meet someone who could not be fitted into one slot.
Despite this thought process, cheeks puffed out childishly. She indeed had to be with adult but by no means was there to be an admission. Eyes looking away, a tell tale sign that she would lie.
“I’m a big girl, I can be all by myself !”
Indigent, head upturned with nose in the air. Trying to have the look of being older & mature but failing miserably. If anything her childish nature became more evident.
Many would construe her demeanor to be nothing more or less than frigid, but thankfully there were always those whom understood the variations between kindness and cruelty. How the physicist approached the adolescent had been in a most mature manner, she thought. Despite inquiring about her singularity, it wasn’t as though she’d used a mocking tone or any sort of guise.
”You don’t look a day over six. I had been under the impression that a person had to be at least thirteen before they began wandering without company.“
No, there wasn’t a particular fondness of children but it wasn’t as if there was a distaste for them either. Her sibling had been the one capable of putting up conversation and providing entertainment.
He was, at most times, relevantly a splicer that could be regarded as simply a pest rather than a threat. But this would be a foolish ideology to keep as the front of one’s perception of the boy. No doubt, The Rabbit has had his fair share of death and chaos. It was prominent in the caked on blood crusting the cuffs of his dress shirt, between the creases of skin, and underneath his oddly kept fingernails. Nothing short of a murderer, and yet, the innocence somehow could be delicately framed in his demeanor.
Neither a farce or a trick, but an unstable vex of ADAM infused conundrums.
And as the Lutece’s sheer compliment dawns upon Peter, he can’t help but grin. “Oooh! Flattery! Facts, fiction! One of the three, right?” A chuckle before hands clap together in a single pact, and the houdini - true to his ability - forms by the woman as he swoops in to take her hand, lift it, and plant a chaste kiss on her bare knuckles. What a gentleman.
“But the pleasure’s all mine, Rosey!”
Albeit a pest, the Lutece woman would never go out of her way to rightly signify this (that would plainly be rude and unnecessary). What was to gain from this had been infinite, for Peter took the role of a variable and the reactions that would arise from him on account of their unlikely acquaintanceship would be observed. No, he had not been a lab rat. Instead, an experiment. Briefing these notions could be recognized as nothing short of callous, but neither did it harm her nor the fellow himself– so what had there been to fret over? Nothing.
What begun to continuously bewilder her, among all things, had been his amiable disposition. As though he’d rather just been sporting a Hallow’s Eve ensemble and that average character of his remained uneffected.
Pity that hadn’t been the case any longer.
A slight smile begins to grace her features upon his gesture, one of which she hadn’t anticipated but computed it natural for such a gentleman. Not often would it be that the pair would come into contact, but at least there would be an effort somewhat made on the redhead’s position. “I bid thee farewell, Peter. I cannot promise I will be present often, but I I’m sure we will cross paths more than once.”
Like that, she demonstrated her own Houdini-esque abilities, practically vanishing as though a tuft of smoke only, there would be no traces left behind.
It had been a delightful experience so far. None had bothered to actually humor him in such a way where he’d actually want them around for the sake of company. Even if what Rosalind was saying about leaving were to be true. The splicers gloated their own prospects of escape, many believing the bathyspheres would someday begin working again — but even Peter knew better than that. They were locked out of the public, and only people that were lucky enough - chosen - could actually pilot them into power again.
Shifting his weight on the box, The Rabbit stares at the Lutece with obvious intrigue as she speaks. Not many could hold his attention for so long without his cracking mind weighing down conversation into a more startling effect of violence. But no — Peter would not dare to think that about Rosalind. She had been kind to him, far kinder than most strangers that walked amongst the ghosts and cannibals in the undersea graveyard. “Peter Rabbit, Peter, though..” He wiggles his fingers, dusting a bit of icy plasmid energy off the tips of them.
“— You can give me a nickname too, Rosey!”
It seemed, regardless of her preference, Peter would be using such terms of endearment for the woman. Insisted upon it, even. He knocks the back of his loafers against the crate, smile widening with a stitched tug. Dark eyes searched her expression, attempting to find the smallest crack in her response.
Not a liar yet, but could be. “You’ll come back to visit, right?”
Lutece genuinely found herself astonished with his lack of destructive behavior. In fact, she’d practically counted on the circumstance, though the results would only derive discouragement in the young man. Intending to harm an omnipresent being never went as planned for the culprit. Many have attempted before, only to fail and leave the redhead questioning why she hadn’t met her demise in such an instance.
“I think Peter will suffice.” Had she been someone other than Rosalind, perhaps the suggestion would be acted upon. “Nothing else particularly comes to mind.” There had been many: Pete, Petey, Rabbit, more charming terms had been in different languages. French; lapin, Latin; lepus, the like, but those hardly seemed to fit the individual– he hadn’t been a test subject.
It would appear her title as of this moment had been decided, rather set in stone when regarding the enthused, spliced hare. Friends, let alone acquaintances, hadn’t been a frequent in the trials and tribulations of Rapture folk. What she concluded was that it hadn’t so much been that Peter sought an actual confident but instead an occasional brush with a character unlike the rest. Though most believed her to be nothing but cold, sporting an intimidating disposition always, Peter had approached with quite the opposite belief. To deny a fellow simple interaction would induce slight guilt.
"More than likely… Your company is seldom what I’ve come to anticipate, quite honestly: pleasant.“
addiction sparked when smoke infects lungs. filter rests on lips, fingers curl delicately around cancer stick. breath taken, and stick is removed, settled by his side. lifeline, he considers it. something to keep him
s a n e.
pause taken, gaze lifts and lit tick falls to the floor. sole of shoe crushes out the light that burns.
` — can i help you?
starin’ won’t get you anywhere. `
Vices like his had never brought solace– though, the woman supposed that any likely quirks that could ever constitute as such had gone unaware to both her and dear Robert.
"And if one has no where to be?“ A query to ponder frivolously, for this hadn’t necessarily applied to her: seemed she had everywhere to be, all at once. Though, the individual would more than likely take this mention as impudence.
”I need but no assistance… I’m merely present for observation.“
Any talk of possibilities, talk of options, something more than the undersea grave he was now threatened with as the days went on seemed to be just enough to keep Peter’s mind going. He figured himself not too far gone, he could switch between the acts as needed — but what he really wanted, more than anything, was to simply escape Rapture.
Distant memories occasionally crept through the tattered and worn mind of the splicer when he was a child. The smell of fresh air, the warmth of the sun, the moon, he remembered them almost vividly during some of the more.. unpleasant tides of focus.
If this woman indeed, could get him even scraping near the surface — Upside, her worth to him was far more than for simple entertainment.
“The pleasure’s all mine.” For a split second, the Houdini might have even been mistaken for normal with how proper he accented each word and motion. An act, purely for what little sanity remained. If Peter dared to assume his nature, the paranoia and scant drives of violence would be the end of all.
His slim fingers danced across her knuckles, affectionate. So smooth and dainty, but strangely cold for one dressed so fine. Peter Rabbit licks his lips and regards the Lutece twin with a nod, “Rosalind. Rosa, Rosey? No nicknames?” The little urchin’s grip disappears, along with the rest of him in a flurry of red smoke, only to phase back into the naked eye just a few feet away - perched on a crate with a big smile.
Logical for the Houdini to desperately cling to any even that meant possible departure. Practically any found in similar circumstances would be keen toward accompanying a dame whom hailed elsewhere and had presented herself in a way which proved many things: not only was it legitimate, but also civilized. Although they themselves hadn’t been all too fair-minded, the ADAM was disregarded and splicers continued to assure themselves it hadn’t been all too far down the river (the ocean was a great deal of length further, they would reflect).
It was a shame. Entertainment, by definition, had been her primary rationale for remaining present. Of course, it had been marked by pity to some degree.
All that she’d been able to offer him was mere company.
Although dear Peter had been a great deal damaged, mannerisms proved liable, there having been no fracture of lunacy within their encounter. This, had appeased his company considerably, even if she’d been quite composed to begin with. Associating with an individual hell bent would be much more of a difficult task and by no means would amount to anything… Few had been capable of intriguing the omnipresent being, Peter being one of them. With a glance downward upon his light observation concerning appendages, a brow quirks to look him over once more.
"I prefer Rosalind–“
Living up to his label quite theatrically... The Lutece continues with parted lips and a patient breath as her direction shifts toward the other, his figure shrouded in the remainder of crimson powder.
”Though, I’m sure you have your own inclinations… And what of you? Simply Peter?“
“You cannot expect me to trust die assurances of a stranger. Liars are as common in this city as Splicers, und I will permit neither near my little ones.
You are a foreigner, then ? I know of no residents who cannot navigate this city with shut eyes.”
" Justifiable. From all I’ve come to conclude, Rapture isn’t as rapturous as it was once claimed.
I am indeed a foreigner, though I’ve become aware of the city many a time before. Previously when ADAM had been a mere instrument rather than a conductor. “
Two wide, grey eyes watched her go, wondering if he should say something. Part of him wanted to shout something obscene at her, to let her know just how daft she was being, but that wouldn’t do at all. What if she reported him to the Council? His record was spotless, of course, but the investigation wouldn’t be good for business. The media had a way of turning things around so that the big, bad corporations were always at fault, even when the facts indicated otherwise.
Tsking, Alex turned in the tank, curling up against the filthy glass. She would come back. They always did. In a week or two, he would wake up and find her kneeling in front of his tank, begging him to hire her. The thought made him smile a little. Anyone with half a brain knew that Fontaine was the future, and she, it seemed, still had all her faculties.
Perchance Alex took the risk of endangering his company by executing such a thing (though it would be of no one’s real concern), seldom would it bring shock. As it had been mentioned quite repetitively once before, Lutece would never come to estimate that which could apply to everyone in familiar circumstances as the behemoth. Other than the evidence that presented itself plainly to the eye: every individual down here involved with ADAM had been psychotic. Though it may not appear in certain instances, it would be infinitely better to recognize Rapture this way if one had concern for themselves.
Like that, the woman had took to her departure. Heels clicked against tile with each step as it relatively grew faint through the creature’s submerged ears. Inevitably the clacks had come to a halt, marking the woman’s absence in almost a theatrical method.
Perhaps she would return, for whatever reason. Conversation, inquiries, or intrusiveness.
Would his downfall be of his own accord? Or another’s? It was something to ponder.
