( the material is sodden, soaked and clinging in her hands, and without thinking of it, she immediately stretches it together, wringing it through her fingers as though to twist the water of it. naturally, such actions are better served in a bathroom: there's a splash down at their feet, narrowly missing the edge of the bed, which makes her laugh, some, as she takes a step back from him. silly little amusements are like scraps of food for the dying, in a place like this--it doesn't put off the inevitable horrors, but it tastes as good as a brief flash of sunlight through rain-soaked clouds. in the end, she shakes the wet shirt out again and turns to drape it over a chair; it'll have to air dry, given that she hadn't seen any old hair dryers in the bathroom. could be worth it to look for one, but she's not keen on going outside the room again.
besides, why leave when there are such nice things to look at? her wet hands curve in against her folded arms, twisting a step back towards him, and another still--unabashed, which he surely expects, her gaze goes down his chest, down his arms, dropped down to the waist of his pants before sliding back up again. )
Good thing I'm great at stripping.
( with a ghost of a smile, but rather than start to shed her own clothes, she only steps close enough to get another hold on his. her hands land on his hips, featherlight, wandering across the width of his belt to the buckle at the front.
he doesn't need the help, but it's polite to offer, isn't it? )
You probably have girls begging to do this all the time. ( a point for his natural, handsome features--but it doesn't sound jealous, or agitated, just amused; her fingers work the buckle loose, starting for the button of his pants beyond it. ) You were looking for a girl, is that right?
( she remembers, of course, but it's better to feign the foggy details; he might reveal a little more, that way, in explanation. )
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Date: 2025-01-24 08:00 pm (UTC)besides, why leave when there are such nice things to look at? her wet hands curve in against her folded arms, twisting a step back towards him, and another still--unabashed, which he surely expects, her gaze goes down his chest, down his arms, dropped down to the waist of his pants before sliding back up again. )
Good thing I'm great at stripping.
( with a ghost of a smile, but rather than start to shed her own clothes, she only steps close enough to get another hold on his. her hands land on his hips, featherlight, wandering across the width of his belt to the buckle at the front.
he doesn't need the help, but it's polite to offer, isn't it? )
You probably have girls begging to do this all the time. ( a point for his natural, handsome features--but it doesn't sound jealous, or agitated, just amused; her fingers work the buckle loose, starting for the button of his pants beyond it. ) You were looking for a girl, is that right?
( she remembers, of course, but it's better to feign the foggy details; he might reveal a little more, that way, in explanation. )