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07-15-2014, 04:34 AM
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To your satisfaction, Rostislav takes the bait, closing the distance between you as fast as those short little legs will carry him. If he wasn’t trying to take you home—or at least, into the nearest copse of cherry trees—you’d find his eagerness amusing. As it is, however, you are sure that is exactly what he wants to, and since that is the case…well, it’s better not to feel much at all about this short little suitor, no matter how much his advances appeal to your vanity. “You are right,” he chortles with all the subtlety of a rampaging grizzly bear, “it IS my lucky day.” Glad he knows it. You almost feel a pang of remorse for what you intend to do with him, since from the looks of it, he hasn’t had many lucky days…ever. But, the show must go on, and any regrets that may have taken root are promptly weeded out of your emotional garden when he offers you a drink. You’re all for playing games, of course, but taking a sip of this stranger’s mystery juice isn’t exactly what you had in mind. You gather that it’s not poisonous—after all, you saw him take a swig of his own—but still, isn’t this one of those chief rules of life? Article five, Don’t take drinks from strangers, subsection b, especially if you don’t know what in the world the drink actually is? You tell him as much, laughing at his suggestion as if he has just told a particularly amusing joke. “Ah, monsieur Rostislav, your generosity does entertain me,” you return, shaking your head gently. “But I’m afraid that I don’t take drinks from strangers. Perhaps if we were to get better acquainted…” You leave the sentence unfinished, your suggestion lingering lightly on your lips. “Tell me about yourself,” you prompt him. It is more of a command than a suggestion, but you assume that he’ll play along. After all, he wanted to have fun, didn’t he? @[Rostislav] |
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