Defecting [Vienna\Public]

It wasn't exactly waltz rhythm. But then again... She didn't think he was ready for any kind of waltz. She hid her face in his collar to hide that she was laughing-- though it was really quite obvious. "Well then you are unteachable," She replied with mock exasperation. "Because this is the simplest step I know." looking down when he did, she came to a different conclusion. Stepping onto his too-big shoes with the tips of hers, she ended up wrapping her arms around his neck. "Now you don't have to worry about stepping on me."

His next words started with a compliment-- good, good, she was beautiful-- but ended unsatisfactorily. It confused her. Yes, they could get ruined, but she always had others. Is that what he meant? No, no, couldn't be. He'd seen what was in her luggage. It didn't cross her mind that he meant clothes like his or more wearable clothes, at least-- of which, she had none.

After a pause for thought, she returned, to his shoulder, "What... What am I supposed to wear, then?" Surely there was no real dress code here.

He laughed right along with her, "I need some instruction, you know? I'm a simple guy; your 'simple' is still pretty hard for me." Surprised at first when she shifted positions, he found himself with an empty hand and both of hers around his neck. Tentatively, he placed his on her hips--probably not the choicest of places he could have chosen, but still very tame, knowing him. Speaking into her curls, he joked as he struggled to keep from pressing his lips to her ear, which was just a tantalizing inch or so away, "No, I just have to worry about not breaking our agreement." He laughed a second time, though with just a hint of nervousness. This self-control business could prove to be quite difficult for a hedonist like himself.

Thankfully, he found something to distract himself with.

"You know...just plain clothes?" It struck him that maybe she didn't own any--after all, on the flip side, he didn't own any fancy clothes. "We could find you some, I think, if you don't have anything." Softly, he added, "It might make people be friendlier, too." 

((Jesus Christ, why is it 5:30--/sob so tired))

She wasn't hoping for any other answer, really. "Let's just stay like this, then," She smiled. It didn't really matter if he learned-- after all, the ground was too uneven, anyways. It just didnt strike her that different clothes would make it better.

His confession got another giggle out of her. "All I said was that you had to be a 'good man'... I never said anything about what that meant." He wasnt kidding when he said he was simple. "Although, I suppose a good man wouldn't take advantage of loopholes in a contract." That met her qualifications, then. While her fingers curled into his hair, she gave him another kiss, this one more deep than the last. "You meet the criteria."

...And again, she was confused. What were plain clothes? And she was a little afraid to wear any. "...okay..." But tentatively, she had to agree. "How will people be friendlier if I'm not...well... Pretty enough?" Didnt people respond well to attractive people?

This time, he was ready for it. Pulling her closer, shifting one of his hands up her back a bit, he leaned forward just slightly as he fully returned the kiss. He kissed like a starving man, like a person hungry for acceptance, who found it only in the lips of women. Sex was different; that was purely for pleasure, a mutual thing. But kissing was something he did selfishly, consumingly. As though he wanted to suck out all of the desire she'd ever had for anything or anyone else, and manifest it in himself. So that she'd only want him.

...And then he broke it off, grinning like he always did.

He had to laugh with a little incredulity, too, "Not pretty enough? You? I don't think that would be a problem, no matter what you're wearing. Besides, we don't really care here about all that--look at Cosim, you just said he looks like an ogre," he chuckled, "And look at me: I've never worn anything nice in my life." Taking her hand, he lead her to the car where they kept spare supplies, including clothes and costumes and whatnot. It was too bad Guzal wasn't here; he knew she'd helped Sonya find a new dress, and she would probably be better for the job than him. But even if she were nearby, he sort of doubted she'd be as willing to help, this time.

Pulling open the car door (this one had a ramp, so no need to hoist her up), he continued as he stepped inside, "It might not feel very good at first," he flipped open a trunk and started rummaging through it's contents, pulling out dresses and shirts and other worn-down articles, "But it'll help you fit in, I think."

If she was confused about what he meant about clothes, she was absolutely baffled with him. How could someone kiss like that and then... Well, smile like an oaf? She wasn't sure how she felt about it. At one end, he kissed her like she was already his. But it wasn't quite the same feeling she had gotten from any man before. There was some sort of security in it. She had almost forgotten about their pact by the time he pulled away from her. In her daze she missed his comment about her being pretty in anything (though that seemed to be already conveyed) and tried not to frown so much at the prospect of finding new... Er, used clothes.

"I'm not like you or Cosim..." She mumbled as he dug through the trunk, pulling out items that almost made her visibly cringe. But if it helped her fit in (and consequently not die of a mugging or starvation out in the dust) then she would do it. Until people liked her. And that was is. One thing pressed on her mind though.

"I don't know if anything is going to fit." Everything she owned was specially fitted to her waist and her height. What he was pulling out was just a hodge podge of clothes; some of which she wasn't certain were made for women.

"Nah, you're much better-looking than either of us," he laughed. If he understood that perhaps she had meant something else, he didn't say anything about it. Better to just try and keep her spirits up as much as possible, if he could.

This was an obstacle he hadn't considered, though. She was, indeed, almost impossibly thin. What if the clothes just fell right off of her? He'd never had to think about this before--he was a bit on the shorter side compared to many of the Europeans and Americans here, but rarely did something sewn for the average-sized person fail to fit him.

"What if..." He thought for a moment. "What if you took a dress or a really long shirt, cut it down the middle, and wore it like--" He gestured as if he were putting on a robe. "And you could tie something around your waist to hold it. Where I'm from, the traditional clothes fit anyone, because we make them like that..." It was the best he could come up with. At least shoes wouldn't be a problem...hopefully. They'd found some for Sonya, after all, and her feet were pretty small, he thought.

"Don't compare him to you," She frowned disgustedly. How was there even a comparison? Itakshir was miles more good looking, miles more kind. At least, to her. And there was that simplicity about him that she felt she needed in her life. The kind of simplicity that only meant happiness.

But she could do without the fashion simplicity. Immediately waving a hand in the air to swat away the idea, she laughed incredulously. "A robe? That's what people wear to the bath, or to bed. I need something else." Stepping over, she shuffled through the trunk until she saw a moderately nice dress that seemed like it would fit. Next, she dug out a worn men's belt. She could only hope the belt holes went down far enough.

Glancing at him for a moment, she pushed him away from seeing her by his shoulders. There was no screen in here; most likely because only one person was usually around in it. "Be a good man." She reminded, before turning to change into the less flash garment.

It was dark, with some kind of red flower pattern on it-- definitely too big for her waist, but she did have the belt. She cinched it around her middle, not finding a belt hole and instead holding it down by the loops. Thefabric hung loosely over the belt... And made her look even more thin and fragile. Not bad.

"What do you think?" She turned and asked. It was an odd scene at the moment; a done up woman in a ratty dress with sparkling golden heels. A true "One of these things is not like the others" moment.

He laughed right along with her, though for a different reason: why would they specifically choose to wear traditional clothes only to the bath? Europeans were so delightfully strange, it was hilarious.

Still grinning, he held up his hands innocently as she pushed him back. He had to seriously question himself for a moment--was he a good man?

...

......

Maybe just for her. For likely the first time in his life, he resisted looking at an attractive undressed woman, and turned away. When she announced that she was done, he swiveled around eagerly. "I think I told you so," he laughed, "See? You look good in anything. ...I guess next is shoes--"

Poking around, he located the smaller trunk full of old shoes, many of them worn down to the brink of shreds, or even missing a pair. This one could be a little more difficult.

She really wasn't surprised that he didn't look. She had no idea of his reputation, why should she doubt him? He didn't even say "I told you so" right. There was even a kindness in that.

But... As nice as he was, she wouldn't trust any of the shoes from the trunk. Even though shoes were the prime thing he worried about. "I don't want those shoes." She blurted out after a nervous while, and gestured to her own. "These-- these are specially made for me-- and... And they're the only things I have left, now." Possibly a little thoughtless for a woman who had thousands of dollars in possessions in a trunk, but somehow, that was how she felt. Plus... Those shoes would absolutely ruin her perfectly manicured feet. Who knows what kind of feet had been in them before? "Please....?"