[Surely there must be a way these ceremonies usually end - something more particular than finishing their cups and replacing them at their starting point. She suspects maybe it's something to do with the undressing of the table after all his guests have gone, but in the moment finds she can't recall it.
No matter, she decides as she drinks the last of that spice and wood char tea. The cup is fitted back on its delicate little hand painted dish as her thumb traces the thick underside of his wrist in time with the easy, unhurried brush of his fingers. With her chin in her spare hand, she regards him across the too-wide table and her mind drifts from that seaward window to other, more particular possibilities.]
Would you like to continue this conversation somewhere more comfortable?
[Likely not the one about the other Hosts, the one about what lies beyond the Station and this universe, but the low murmuring and faintly feverish undertone that's been stitched through her thoughts. She grins at him - a cat who's caught its prey.]
no subject
No matter, she decides as she drinks the last of that spice and wood char tea. The cup is fitted back on its delicate little hand painted dish as her thumb traces the thick underside of his wrist in time with the easy, unhurried brush of his fingers. With her chin in her spare hand, she regards him across the too-wide table and her mind drifts from that seaward window to other, more particular possibilities.]
Would you like to continue this conversation somewhere more comfortable?
[Likely not the one about the other Hosts, the one about what lies beyond the Station and this universe, but the low murmuring and faintly feverish undertone that's been stitched through her thoughts. She grins at him - a cat who's caught its prey.]