the wordsmith

“W-What’s that supposed to... mean?” He inquires, brow knitting together. “Sure it’s a bit, uh... quirky... but-- I find it to be pleasant.” A brief pause. “W-Well that...  was hundreds of years ago. Gee-wiz... I couldn’t imagine living six hundred years in the past. Surely, I’d have been dead before twenty-five. Heck, even... younger? No matter-- ‘least we didn’t  have to suffer through it.” He chuckles a bit, twiddling his thumbs.

Nervously adjusting his crooked tie, Victor nods in agreement-- he should enjoy the event. That is, until she’d mentioned his lingering nervousness-- causing him to blink thrice behind his spectacles. Now, as a hand draws close, he finds himself resisting the urge to take a step lean back in avoidance. However-- he takes the nonchalant gesture from the brunette, a crooked smile forming upon his features, brow furrowed with a single laugh. Victor then clears his throat and parts his lips to speak-- though his voice cracks. “No, n-no... I just, uh...” He murmurs, trailing into silence for a moment as he shakes his head. “I try to get home before the sun’s finally headed down... I-I’m a bit.... paranoid, if I’m being honest.” A beat. “I think I’m just, uh-- adjusting to the whole-- big city mentality.” 

Victor follows her inside, expression softening as his eyes wander about. “Sounds interesting.” He takes a few steps toward a display, tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers and craning his neck to take a look. “How... do you get your hands on all this kinda’ stuff?” He murmurs as his gaze wanders. “I mean-- I’ve been to my fair share of... antique shops... conventions... but I’ve, uh...” He straightens his posture and slowly turns to face her. “Never seen an individual owner with-- this-- many bits and bobs.” He offers a crooked grin and exhales through his nose. “Impressive, really.”

“Your favorite? I’m honored. Truly.” Victor glances down at the pavement for a moment, smile playing upon his features. Adjusting the strap to his messenger bag over his shoulder, he follows her toward the door. Giving a light shrug at her inquiry, Victor narrows his eyes in thought. “Hm. I was really quite interested in, uh... getting some pottery. I’m sick of staring at the plastic that my house plants were bought in, and... well...” He trails off quietly. 

“Very funny.” He exhales through his nose, a bit of a crooked grin lingering. As she begins to walk backward, Victor casually follows, allowing there to be more space between them.  “A plan, huh? What, uh... what kinda’ shenanigans are in store for today, then?” A pause. “Well-- aside from the ten hours trapped indoors.” Victor shakes his head  with a small laugh. “N-No, no... believe me, you’ll spend the remainder of the year pulling at your hair.” 

“No need to apologize. It’s fine, really. No harm done. I should have... spoken up.” Victor offers her the kindest of smiles, clasping his hands together. He raises his brows at Natasha’s offer. “Oh? Are you certain? I-I’d hate to keep you.” A beat passes as his gaze wanders to the door, and back to the blushing blonde. He clears his throat before speaking. “Well-- if you wouldn’t mind, then-- I’d certainly appreciate it.” 

“Ah, I suppose so... I mean, yeah. What can I say? I’m, uh-- really enjoying it here.” He nods, a crooked grin forming upon his features. “Gotcha’... Thank god for summer break, on my end.” Victor exhales, brows raised as he gives her a once over. “How’ve you been, though?”

“Your old age-- if you say so--  but I’ll have to kindly disagree.” Victor can’t help but smile at her laughter. “I’d, uh... rather not spoil the fun in the mystery.” He too, chuckles softly. “Well, we can’t have that happening now, can we?” Victor offers her an apologetic smile as he adjusts his glasses with nimble fingers. “It’s just difficult not to, is all.” He admits with a gentle shrug of the shoulder. “I’ll do my best to, uh... to reel it in, though. For your sake.”

Feeling slightly unsettled, Victor clears his throat and averts his gaze. “Well-- what’s your definition of ‘lately’?” He inquires, stepping through the threshold of the door.