01-20-2014, 09:54 AM
Spectra snorted a most uncharacteristic laugh. One that was far more fitting in the cardboard shacks of a third world country than the steel towers of a glamorous metropolis. She couldn't help it. So rarely did she laugh because something was genuinely funny. Face tilted, she recovered swiftly enough. The brief glimpse behind the facade dissolved, and she was once more the languid, elegant creature she'd become.
She purposefully waited for him to open the door, like proper, polite people. So much for this nonsense about feminine rights. When did it become a statement of power for a woman to open her own doors when she could beckon a man to do it for her. She passed by in close proximity, perhaps to brush close, but more likely to taunt quietly. Although with the white noise of the room behind, it was doubtful anyone would hear their exchange.
"It looks as though you will be right at home also. This is a very nice coat you are sporting. It is quite dashing."
For anyone else her words were complimentary, but Hood would enjoy the irony. Like the suit he wore beneath, she recognized the label. For Spectra Lin to be impressed, it meant Hood's education of all things-runway had expanded in the last few years, or he had friends with excellent taste. For once, when she pet his sleeve with the palm of her hand it actually was to appreciate the cloth rather than send another signal. It just so happened the signal was also fitting. "Kiton, Fall 2045. These are not easy pieces to find. Is it a Heinz D'Orsi?"
If Hood was neck deep in some undercover life, he should know the answer to the question. As Heinz, the son of world-legend Enzo D'Orsi, the master tailor for Kiton, was in incredible demand for personally hand-making every piece, including hundreds of stitches across a week's worth of work, the label would be something to parade. If he didn't know, then he could thank her later for the tip.
Spectra smiled accusingly. This was all so funny. "Friends, clothes... I am beginning to wonder exactly who you are señor. Since when do you have acquaintances?"
She followed him onward, eager to see if this quaint apartment matched his handmade suit.
She purposefully waited for him to open the door, like proper, polite people. So much for this nonsense about feminine rights. When did it become a statement of power for a woman to open her own doors when she could beckon a man to do it for her. She passed by in close proximity, perhaps to brush close, but more likely to taunt quietly. Although with the white noise of the room behind, it was doubtful anyone would hear their exchange.
"It looks as though you will be right at home also. This is a very nice coat you are sporting. It is quite dashing."
For anyone else her words were complimentary, but Hood would enjoy the irony. Like the suit he wore beneath, she recognized the label. For Spectra Lin to be impressed, it meant Hood's education of all things-runway had expanded in the last few years, or he had friends with excellent taste. For once, when she pet his sleeve with the palm of her hand it actually was to appreciate the cloth rather than send another signal. It just so happened the signal was also fitting. "Kiton, Fall 2045. These are not easy pieces to find. Is it a Heinz D'Orsi?"
If Hood was neck deep in some undercover life, he should know the answer to the question. As Heinz, the son of world-legend Enzo D'Orsi, the master tailor for Kiton, was in incredible demand for personally hand-making every piece, including hundreds of stitches across a week's worth of work, the label would be something to parade. If he didn't know, then he could thank her later for the tip.
Spectra smiled accusingly. This was all so funny. "Friends, clothes... I am beginning to wonder exactly who you are señor. Since when do you have acquaintances?"
She followed him onward, eager to see if this quaint apartment matched his handmade suit.