Music and Stone (Closed)

[Yvonne]

Yvonne was captivated with Henry's engaging conduct. She allowed herself to be acquired at the wrist, heart skipping a beat and stomach aflutter with the delight of butterflies. He placed a kiss upon her hand like a well-intentioned gentleman, complete with a bow as low as she was high - the attention trembled her at the knees. The diminished woman melted. Her psychological barriers softened. Neither did he overstay his welcome, letting her hand fall thereafter, leaving the infatuated hybrid with wistful thoughts of holding his hand again, and soon.

There was only one other man she'd met before, throughout her life which had treated her with as much respect. He was old and grey enough to be her father. Indeed, in many ways Abel filled her void in that regard, mentor to which she owed direction in her life, the momentum of her career. He had treated Yvonne like she was the most extraordinary individual he'd ever had the privilege of teaching, like she was capable of altering the course of history - changing the world - at least until he didn't. Her mentor had a lifetime to cultivate a gentleman's decorum. Even he had abandoned her because of ears and skin, in the end.

The connotations underlying Henry's word-choice hadn't escaped her sharp mind. Her mother was a prostitute whom had raised her daughter in a brothel. A faint awareness of reality originated in the back of Yvonne's mind - the realization drew her gradually back to earth like a child bringing in a kite from the wind. So there was the quip she'd anticipated much earlier, once she'd bumped into him. He was a real person who made the occasional slip after all. To his credit she'd forgotten to expect her feathers ruffled. The petite drow raised an imperious eyebrow, her mouth ajar with surprise. She'd already given him a free pass, expecting he didn't intend escort to be interpreted the way she understood it.

"Mind yer manners," she advised, amused. "Mother may have been an escort but she spared me her life." Yvonne's euphoric, starry-eyed expression had touched down to playful enthusiasm. She understood what that mischievous smirk of his was all about - he was a teaser, a man whom enjoyed deriving reactions from his actions. This was a game she could play as well.

"Ye want ta know me name?" The roguish woman blinked her eyelids, feigning a second bout of surprise. "Ye'd like that wouldn't ye?" A thin grin ebbed between her lavish lips, knowing her riposte would catch Henry flat-footed, unsuspecting.

"I think I'd like yer Mama Matilda by tha sound of it," Yvonne considered, reflecting, before walking ahead on her handsome friend, leaving him there. She flicked him a sidelong glance over her shoulder as she paced away, smirking happily.

"I'd sooner introduce myself ta her," she countered, her silvery elven eyes sparking with beguilement. "Are ye coming or are ye going ta stand there with that speechless look on yer face?"