"Well, he's not alive now, so it's a moot point." She sips off the bottle for lack of a glass, then balances it on the wood next to herself. She unearths her lighter and idly starts to burn away at the cork, until it smolders and catches flame.
Being the Countess, she watches him instead of the slowly-burning cork in her hand.
"And how to do you plan to spend the rest of your day?" she asks, looking at him in a way reminiscent of when she found him interesting, when she wanted to spend time with him. She's not entirely sure why she wants to talk to him, actually, why he isn't currently registering as the obligation she normally finds him to be.
It must be boredom. And he is a certain level of dark she's not finding so easily here. There's comfort in it.
Grabbing the wine bottle, she hops down and stands near him, dropping the cork into the basin and letting the fire catch madly on the acid, the flame going from slow and steady to wild in just seconds.
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Being the Countess, she watches him instead of the slowly-burning cork in her hand.
"And how to do you plan to spend the rest of your day?" she asks, looking at him in a way reminiscent of when she found him interesting, when she wanted to spend time with him. She's not entirely sure why she wants to talk to him, actually, why he isn't currently registering as the obligation she normally finds him to be.
It must be boredom. And he is a certain level of dark she's not finding so easily here. There's comfort in it.
Grabbing the wine bottle, she hops down and stands near him, dropping the cork into the basin and letting the fire catch madly on the acid, the flame going from slow and steady to wild in just seconds.