Decidedly Devious

So, I graduate college in the next few weeks, May 8th, to be precise. Rushing around right now to finish the last of my classes, and prepare myself for graduation/having to go out into the world and adult.

So responses are likely to be slow, but I will do them!

I currently owe:

@britishmate​

@lennon-connelly-rp​

@dirtxgrubbingxwarlock

I wanna rp, but I don’t know what character. Someone help

“See?” he said, shaking his head, but he’d’ve sounded more forlorn if he weren’t smiling back at her. “I knew it. Most of us guys, we haven’t got a prayer.”

Her breathing was barely audible until the moment it paused. He glanced at her in alarm, then immediately looked away, embarrassment mingling with irritation and the remnants of shock. He bit his tongue - don’t do that.

(Stupid. Worst thing that’ll happen, you’ll worry her by jumping like a scared rabbit. The blood loss was the issue, and she wasn’t even pale - She was blushing, for god’s sake.) He carefully smiled, fixing his face before he looked back at her. “Say, girl. What do you do when you’re not getting yourself assaulted?”

The pink of her cheeks deepened as he smiled at her. “I wouldn’t say that.” Celeste offered, her voice light as she spoke.

Her breathing slowed down now, her panic was setting in. She could feel her throat starting to close itself up, her chest feeling tight. Her attempt to monitor her breathing was failing and it hitched, picking up again as he spoke.

“Its plenty of reason to growl. Is a person is so rude as to bump into me and not apologize then they need to see a form of punishment for being an ass” he shrugged then he nodded “Of course I would apologize. Cuz its the right thing to do”

He’d been joking, too… just not very well. Pretty-girl-scowling-at-him was anathema, but he couldn’t exactly just leave, and trying to explain his babble would only make things worse. (The conversation was a good distraction, anyway.) He grinned a moment, trying to project an image of good humour. “Really, huh? Seems to me, girls like you ’re tough to catch.”

It was probably both, he figured. Suffice to say, if he saw her on the street, he didn’t think he’d assume she was poor. “You right with the pain?” he asked, more quietly. His hands kept pressing - he wanted to make certain.

“Hard to catch?” Celeste couldn’t help but echo the remark. She wasn’t entirely sure (if at all) what he had meant by it. She’d only honestly been involved with one person, and he’d been the one to give her the scar. Since then — a short laugh parted her lips as she thought about it. Maybe she wasn’t  that easy to catch. Then again, being attacked was a different sort of situation. As she realized her sudden reaction, pink tinged her cheeks and she cleared her throat, head turning away.

     The more he thought he knew women, he actually knew less, that was the whole truth. Who would ever be able to figure them out? “Fine, you don’t need to let me in,” he raised his hands up as in a defeat, but chose to ignore her question. They both knew and that didn’t need to voiced aloud. “Can we just talk? That’s all I want to do, talk.”

Careful fingers threaded through the ends of her curls, wrapping them around her knuckles as she listened to his muffled voice. “About?” she prodded carefully, the broken note in her voice giving away her uncertainty.

Rory: something interesting

Rory: what did you do today?

Rory: or last night

Rory: or in the last week or whatever.

       Noah shook his head to himself not knowing whether to laugh at her reaction or stare dumbly at her door. What the hell was she doing? Opening the door and now acting as if she’s not at home? Women. “Celeste, I just saw you,” he finally said as he knocked once more. “Come on, open your door.”

“It’s papercuts,” he deadpanned,  and lifted up her shirt. (on another day, that might be fun - today, he just realised that she was still bleeding.) “Well, it could be this too, but only if there’s no one like me around. Now, that kind of treatment’ll give you scars.” The steps were simple enough - get the cloth, fold up the cloth, press it on the wound. That was good, since his nerves were sticking.

He hadn’t noticed the scar - he was far more concerned with her bleeding. His gaze flicked to it then, though, and he grimaced a moment at his own words. Better keep talking. “This guy.” He referred, of course, to the right-now criminal, the guy who gave her this. “Do you know him, or was it just since you’ve got money?“

She’d been kidding, her nose wrinkled at his flat response as she decided that he was one of the serious ones. He’d likely take everything at face value. The babbling had been more of a distraction for herself more than anything else. His remark was punctuated by his pulling up her shirt, Celeste was unable to help the hiss from between her clenched teeth as the action pulled the shirt away from the wounds where it had been buried in them with the blade.