"Hot, please. With lavender, if you have it." She drums her nails on the table. They're like tigers claws, encrusted with ruby. There are hardly acrylics in Victorian fantasy-land. Despite their appearance, these must be something akin to Daisy's claws. Part of her now.
As he gets to work, she sings quietly to herself when his back turns. Soft and smokey in quality. "Jeepers, creepers, where'd ya get those peepers? Jeepers, creepers, where'd ya get those eyes?"
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Date: 2025-01-03 02:38 am (UTC)As he gets to work, she sings quietly to herself when his back turns. Soft and smokey in quality. "Jeepers, creepers, where'd ya get those peepers? Jeepers, creepers, where'd ya get those eyes?"