Inbox - Fade Rift

[nonvenomous]

Book/crystal/correspondence/action/whatever you desire.

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[heirring]

With the air of a slightly ill child being forced to down a measure of bitter tasting tonic (queasy look included), Wysteria's hand tightens to a vice grip on Richard's in place of flinching backwards. And while the cuff of her sleeve is trimmed rather close, the rest beyond it is of a perfectly welcoming dimension for the little serpent to worm her way into. In short order, the snake has disappeared from view entirely, presumably worked its way up Wysteria's arm and settled somewhere more comfortable.

She has only gone a few shades paler than chalk white in the process.

"Very good care, yes," she says absently. There's a snake on her but it's fine because it's not really a snake. "And if there is any particular thing she cares for - a sunny rock now and again, for example, I would be happy to indulge her."

[nonvenomous]

There, there. Richard pats his left hand over the back of her bloodless right, and also uses it to assist in gently (wincingly) prying it off whatever crunched cartilage and bone remains of his half of the shake.

“If she does, she'll let you know,” he tells her, and stands to lead the way to the door, on the subject of sunny rock indulgence.

“Should you have any questions, you know how to find me.”

[heirring]

As if possessed by the spirit of a rigid stick jammed somewhere delicate, Wysteria rises from her seat and allows herself to be lead toward to the door. Once across the threshold and out into the corridor beyond, she manages to say (to weakly insist), "A week or two. And then I will return her."

Presumably more heartfelt expressions of gratitude and enthusiasm for their newfound partnership will have to wait.

[nonvenomous]

For the first time, Richard crooks a smile at her across the threshold, knowing, sidelong, keenly aware of what he has done.

He closes the door between them.

Bye-eee.