Nightmare [Piter/Public]

"There isn't a positive." She responded automatically. There was nothing positive about the man sitting next to her, as far as she was concerned. Except maybe his intuition to keep silence when it was really needed. It was some kind of sympathy, at least.

She had to raise an eyebrow on that. "Well, most women are loyal." she thought, at least. She tried to be, most of the time. "And if you were to pick some other defining traits, what would they be?" If all she had about this woman was her loyalty, her mental picture was severely lacking. And the man was such an enigma there was no way she could guess.

"Oh, Frachenka, don't you know there's always a positive?" He admonished lightly, as one might to a kindergartner who didn't understand that you had to have the alphabet in order to make words. "If you can't even see that much, how could you ever hope to get under my skin?" Honestly. He very nearly rolled his eyes; if it were him, he'd be thinking of all sorts of ways to use such a golden nugget of info against himself. ...What, didn't everyone think that way?

And then he had to roll his eyes. Just had to. And with eyes that large and black, it was impossible not to notice. "Men and women, by their nature, are not loyal. Not the level of loyalty I'm talking about, in any case." Maybe he wasn't being fair; no one could match the devotion of an obsessive stalker. But then, that was what made her special.

"She was a woman of few words. Very rare." He pretended to wait a moment, "No implications intended, of course." Logically, it did make sense: a quiet person provided him with no comments to respond to irritatingly.

Snorting lightly in response, she crossed her arms. "If there is, I haven't found it in you yet."

Seeing someone with such large eyes (had she not looked in a mirror lately?) roll them was quite discontenting. Like a bowling ball rotating in a bowl.

Franze waited for something else he might say. Nothing else came out. "And? So she was loyal and didn't talk much. You could very well be just talking about your hamster." she had meant to say dog, but she knew how he felt about those.

She should have known looks would not be something he would dwell on, but thy had to be in the back of his mind somewhere. "Well, what did she look like?" A man had to have no eyes not to notice a woman's looks, and well, if one was judging by eyes, Piter should have known her looks like the back of his hand.

And if he wasn't saying anything, maybe she was ugly.

"And this is why you will never pose as a threat to me," he informed her bluntly, finally bringing his fingers away from the keys. As much as he loved piano, he played it for hours regularly, and overdosing would make for a very dull workday tomorrow--or...later that day. He hadn't glanced at the clock after waking up, but he was fairly certain that it was well past midnight.

Cracking the knuckles on his worn-out fingers, he raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her further questioning. He would inform her that looks meant basically nothing to him, but he knew it would be a waste of time. Of course he could judge, though. What were eyes for if you didn't see with them?

"Beautiful. I'm sure she would terrify you," he recounted shortly and cryptically with something unsettlingly close to fondness. He doubted that Franze would have found the Belarusian beautiful, but it was up to his discretion, not hers. He'd just let her wonder what he was even talking about.

She hated the way he talked to her, but she supposed that was why she did talk to him-- he was the only real honest person in her life. The men she was with lied to keep her, or lied to keep her away. The rest of the carnies were yes-men, weak in spirit and quite afraid of what she was known to do with their kind.

Beautiful? With Piter? Most likely in the Russian vicinity? One of those things was not like the others. Not in her mind, at least. Fränze's idea of beauty was herself; a mirror image she could fall in love with not unlike Narcissus but meticulous with flaws to where one imperfection could have her locked in her car for days. She was walking a tightrope between the extremes; self-involvement and self-conscious neuroticism. Well, she was neurotic anyway.

But he was right, she would probably frighten the tiny woman. "Can I see her? If you loved her why don't you have her picture?" Fränze had three pictures of Auguste on her person right at that moment... And one given to her by the now upper manager Djuro, which she kept close to her heart for reasons she wasn't sure of.

"Why don't I have her picture?" He repeated almost incredulously, then laughed. His laughter was soft and short, but surprisingly light. It was also probably one of the rarest sounds in the world. "Of course I have her picture. But only one; she was quite camera-shy." It was not Franze's question, or his answer that amused him so much--it was the idea of the picture itself. He'd taken it on one of the few occasions when she'd dressed up...and she wasn't happy about it. He insisted on keeping the photo anyways, though. (http://tewi.us/tegaki/commentimages/201007/14/18/127914727320-103654.png The one on the far right--/shot)

No doubt Franze's reaction to the picture would also be humorous, but he wasn't ready to show it off to anyone yet.

Standing up, he smoothed out his jacket and bowed just slightly, as a musician in a symphony might do after a performance. He straightened up, with a ghost of the smile still on his face. "Either way, I feel it's more fun if you have to use your imagination. Now then, it's rather late, so I'll be returning to bed. Spokoynoy nochi." He had to hand it to Franze; had he just played piano in solitude, his mind would have still been preoccupied by his nightmares. But now that he was suitably cheered (well, as 'cheery' as he could get) up, he felt it wouldn't be bad to try and squeeze in a few more hours of sleep.

"Yeah, sure." She frowned to both statements. He had her good-- fruit to figure out this woman would be on her mind the rest of the night.

Remembering to add a 'guten nacht' as he walked away, she wondered also if she should say thank you. She did, quietly, after he had gone.