She oohs. She aahs. She flicks the edge of her reversed cloak back to center. "Paperwork. My favorite."
It's punctuated by a waggle of eyebrows made stark in the bit of light she's inhabiting. Like a turned knife, that casually sharp point of Fitcher's curiosity blunts as it's diverted. She doesn't offer him her arm, but it would ruin the concealing lines of her clothes to do so. Don't look so serious, Silas. Your face will get stuck that way.
"The exciting sort of documents, I hope. Account ledgers. Letters of licence. Something with lots of squiggly numbers."
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2022-04-30 04:00 pm (UTC)It's punctuated by a waggle of eyebrows made stark in the bit of light she's inhabiting. Like a turned knife, that casually sharp point of Fitcher's curiosity blunts as it's diverted. She doesn't offer him her arm, but it would ruin the concealing lines of her clothes to do so. Don't look so serious, Silas. Your face will get stuck that way.
"The exciting sort of documents, I hope. Account ledgers. Letters of licence. Something with lots of squiggly numbers."