03-12-2019, 11:54 PM
NPC: Carmen
Duckling. Seriously? The endearment did not exactly appease, though it was the pretty little head that really irked her. “Not some girl. My girl,” she corrected. The tone of that was not harsh, just protective in a no nonsense sort of way. He missed the point. His fight for a quiet life might make hers more difficult down the line, though she supposed she did not have to worry about returned custom right now. The furrow of her brow had little to do with the young man in front of her then.
“Quit the pity train, kid, and rein the attitude while you’re at it. We all have our issues, and most of us aren’t channelers able to solve them just like that.” Her fingers clicked, brows raised. If he knew who she was he’d probably know the rumours that circulated of the club’s idiosyncrasies. For the brief time Ori had shown interest in the place recently, she had fuelled effort into the recruitment of those like her. It didn’t always make steering the ship the easiest endeavour for Carmen. Or hadn’t. Like most things Oriena touched, something burned sooner or later.
“Though in my experience, it ultimately causes more problems than it solves.” She rolled her eyes but chose not to elaborate. He might be inclined to spill the shittiness of his life to a stranger but she was uninterested in returning the favour. Not that she’d missed the part about Atharim. Frustration teemed in the spaces between his words, and beneath the brusqueness of Carmen’s manner she was not uncaring.
“Sensitive little thing aren’t you.” A sharp smirk lifted her painted lips. She’d only spoken her mind. The chastisement was done, and her attention moved on. “The odd little sparrow at the bar, yes? I saw you both out there.” Her hand gestured he lead the way. “A drink is an acceptable apology, I suppose.”
Duckling. Seriously? The endearment did not exactly appease, though it was the pretty little head that really irked her. “Not some girl. My girl,” she corrected. The tone of that was not harsh, just protective in a no nonsense sort of way. He missed the point. His fight for a quiet life might make hers more difficult down the line, though she supposed she did not have to worry about returned custom right now. The furrow of her brow had little to do with the young man in front of her then.
“Quit the pity train, kid, and rein the attitude while you’re at it. We all have our issues, and most of us aren’t channelers able to solve them just like that.” Her fingers clicked, brows raised. If he knew who she was he’d probably know the rumours that circulated of the club’s idiosyncrasies. For the brief time Ori had shown interest in the place recently, she had fuelled effort into the recruitment of those like her. It didn’t always make steering the ship the easiest endeavour for Carmen. Or hadn’t. Like most things Oriena touched, something burned sooner or later.
“Though in my experience, it ultimately causes more problems than it solves.” She rolled her eyes but chose not to elaborate. He might be inclined to spill the shittiness of his life to a stranger but she was uninterested in returning the favour. Not that she’d missed the part about Atharim. Frustration teemed in the spaces between his words, and beneath the brusqueness of Carmen’s manner she was not uncaring.
“Sensitive little thing aren’t you.” A sharp smirk lifted her painted lips. She’d only spoken her mind. The chastisement was done, and her attention moved on. “The odd little sparrow at the bar, yes? I saw you both out there.” Her hand gestured he lead the way. “A drink is an acceptable apology, I suppose.”