COLT
"Spoken like someone accustomed to wriggling out of trouble," she remarks with a gleam to her eye as she looks at him around the shape of the tequila. "Or maybe someone used to startin' it." Sometimes it's one and the same. With the sweet ring of his approval still humming through the air, she pops off the bottle's top and takes another pull of fire, one eye winking of its own accord against the smooth draught that nevertheless has an edge to it. She sets it back down near him, a pointed look given. He'd surely not make her drink alone and leave himself to future visions of shitfacery.
When he goes on the hunt for a mask, she steps in, grabbing up his assembled dark fabric and holding the edges up to his shoulders, fingers barely brushing the edges of his current clothing while she measures a line that would permit movement without providing too much tension. "I'd hate for you to end up like Bassian," she murmurs as she reaches for a pin from one of the piles she sorted, bunching the fabric beneath the point. A few more pins a set in the corner of her lip, sharp side out, as she gathers the material in a wreath around to the front of him. "Mm, too long here," she mutters, mostly to herself, the sound a bit broken around the need to keep the pins steady. She tilts her head, trying to be sure, before reaching out to pin it around him temporarily. "Stand still," she commands, "I only got one shot and I don't have the practice to be chasing your sways."
This at least is easy enough, getting the overall shape of it down, ensuring he has enough, without it being too much. As for the neat and styled pleats, the scope of arm waving and the added layers of ribbon, she can't say she can pull that off quite so well. She traders out the pins for a set of shears, testing the feel of them on the air and grabbing another pull of liquor before reaching back for his cloak.
When he goes on the hunt for a mask, she steps in, grabbing up his assembled dark fabric and holding the edges up to his shoulders, fingers barely brushing the edges of his current clothing while she measures a line that would permit movement without providing too much tension. "I'd hate for you to end up like Bassian," she murmurs as she reaches for a pin from one of the piles she sorted, bunching the fabric beneath the point. A few more pins a set in the corner of her lip, sharp side out, as she gathers the material in a wreath around to the front of him. "Mm, too long here," she mutters, mostly to herself, the sound a bit broken around the need to keep the pins steady. She tilts her head, trying to be sure, before reaching out to pin it around him temporarily. "Stand still," she commands, "I only got one shot and I don't have the practice to be chasing your sways."
This at least is easy enough, getting the overall shape of it down, ensuring he has enough, without it being too much. As for the neat and styled pleats, the scope of arm waving and the added layers of ribbon, she can't say she can pull that off quite so well. She traders out the pins for a set of shears, testing the feel of them on the air and grabbing another pull of liquor before reaching back for his cloak.
If I go missing, don't bother looking, I'm probably just riding the wind
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way
'Cause cowboys and sunsets, you can always count on them, but never to stay
I guess I'm a cowboy, 'cause there's a sunset on the way
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
