ic contact (mask or menace)

[hackitude]

"Hey! You've reached Skye. Leave a message. I mean, if you want to. Or uh, don't. Whatever."

Comments

[corviform]

[ He releases a heavy, exhausted sigh, shoulders falling once more. ]

She said she has feelings for me...

[ The hope the floor will swallow him from under has been present since his apartment in Maurtia Falls. ]

[hackitude]

...

Wow.

... Okay. That's. ... Unexpected.

[Skye at least is JUST enough of a good person to not tack on "Sort of" at the end of that sentence. Or say "I told you so." Or let even any variation of "HA I WAS RIGHT people should really stop doubting me and my awesome powers of deduction" show on her face.]

[corviform]

[ Gil buries his face into his hands. ]

I wasn't expecting it...

I don't understand at all...!

[hackitude]

Okay. Well. That's okay. Let's... skip over that part and come back to it later.

I think what's more important here is... how do you feel about her?

[corviform]

[ It doesn't matter how many times he gets asked this, it's always met with a wide-eyed stare and slight gape. ]

Sorry?

[hackitude]

Your feelings. You know. Those things... that you feel.

How do you feel about her? Ignoring recent events. Do you only see her as a friend? Do you want to kiss her? Come on. Give me something to work with here.

[corviform]

K-K-Kiss her?!

[ He nearly falls out of his seat. ]

W-What are these questions?!

[hackitude]

I dunno, I thought it was pretty straightforward.

[corviform]

Miss Skye!!

[ His delicate pseudo-Victorian sensibilities! ]

[hackitude]

[ROLLING HER EYES tbh]

Okay. Okay. Forget I said anything about kissing. No kissing. None at all.

Let's just start with baby steps. Obviously you like her at least as a friend, or you wouldn't have been so concerned about her.

[corviform]

[ He deserves all the eye rolling lbr. ]

Of course I do. [ It comes out a touch snippy, but he manages to calm himself enough to continue. ] She's... a very important to friend to me.

[ It's not the easiest admission, but it's honest. ]

[hackitude]

Good. That's good.

So then, the next question is: can you... see yourself, say... taking a romantic walk along the beach together?

[corviform]

Romantic...? How do you mean exactly?

[hackitude]

[Skye just levels him with A Look.]

I'm fairly certain you know the definition of the word.

[corviform]

[ He tugs at his collar again for air, shoulders tight and yet shaking. ]

It's quite different back home... I don't really know how courting works here. [ He pauses. ] And they don't call it that anymore...

[hackitude]

All right. How does it work back home, then? I flunked out of high school, I'm a little rusty on my Victorian literature.

[corviform]

"Dating" doesn't exist. Most couples go through a courting ritual. In high society, if they've come of age the families begin to search for a suitor.

[ He rubs the side of his head. ]

It's... more political or business oriented than romantic.

And during courtship if a man or woman went on walks, they walked apart. Contact is frowned upon... only if the woman needs help walking across a rough spot he can extend his arm.

[hackitude]

... Wow. Quick question: are a lot of married people in your world having a lot of really bad sex? Because that sounds like a recipe for really bad sex.

1/2

[corviform]

[ Definitely tumbling out of the chair now. ]

2/2

[corviform]

H-How should I ―

― I'm not answering that!

[hackitude]

It's a valid concern! How are you supposed to know if you're sexually compatible with someone until you've done it?

[corviform]

[ He's still on the floor, but he manages to shoot a flustered look up from where he lays. ]

I don't want to talk about that!

[ He's never really thought of it either. Nobles got married, obtained more property, more influence, and then eventually had children to carry on their lineage.

He doesn't realize how loud he's being either. ]

[hackitude]

Okay. Ooookay.

[Skye just sort of... leans over in her slowly chair... to look down at Gil on the floor. Waiting for him to recover.]

[corviform]

Those things don't matter!

[ Gil huffs and collects himself, wobbily dragging himself back to the seat. ]

D-Don't ask such indecent questions!

[ The women in this era are out of control. ]

[hackitude]

... You're wrong, but I'm going to let it slide for now.