CLOSED STARTER for @fcarmongcr, at the wake.
“You know what I’ve always wondered,” Mila begins, moving over to yet another masked figure, a glass of red wine dangling from her fingers as she does. Her voice is a drawl, not outright hostile but not kind either — does she owe kindness, to these strangers? One might say so, if one were to interpret their presence as an act of good faith. But Mila has always leaned more towards the dramatic, and doesn’t think there’s such a thing as a person without an agenda.
Anyway, continuing on: “How those masks are for your skin. I mean, what’s i made of? Leather? Latex? It can’t be very breathable.” Inching closer, she tries to have a look at the eyes beyond the mask. “Or is there a silk layer under there, to make it sit a little more kindly against your pores?” Maybe they slept with the things on. Mila found it, frankly, incomprehensible.
She inhales, extends a hand, breaching the little space she had left. “Pardon my forwardness. I’m Mila.” Her lips quirk. “Or Charmer, of course.” The other, presumably, already knew that. She doesn’t say it’s nice to meet them: hard to say that, when you don’t know who you’re meeting.
