Something sparks first in her dark eye, and on its heels Fitcher laughs - pleasantly low and rounded, exhaling gauzy sweet-sharp smoke between her teeth.
"Not Dick Dickerson? I'm gutted."
There is some sense of unraveling as her elbow draws from the chair back, as her cheek comes up out of her palm and she reorients - a certain opaque layer of put on guile peeling backward in favor of a broader flashing smile, crinkling wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. It's a rather genuine sort of pleasure. She offers him her long hand.
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Date: 2020-10-18 06:09 am (UTC)"Not Dick Dickerson? I'm gutted."
There is some sense of unraveling as her elbow draws from the chair back, as her cheek comes up out of her palm and she reorients - a certain opaque layer of put on guile peeling backward in favor of a broader flashing smile, crinkling wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. It's a rather genuine sort of pleasure. She offers him her long hand.
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Silas."