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[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

Goldilocks is not cold or heartless. She would likely be quite upset if anyone implied differently, though she'd only mentally put a gun to their head. See? That's true compassion.

As evidence of this, she is decked out ultra-festively this evening, as she has been for the past few days. Her elaborate and painstaking efforts consist of a string of gold tinsel wrapped around her wrist. For the more particular, her pink and gold striped turtleneck is also vaguely cheery. It's remarkable how she manages to get right into the spirit of Christmas while still retaining a modicum of class.

She's looking relaxed and sociable—contented even—on her bar stool, leaning back against the counter and sipping from a glass of white Zinfandel. There's an ever-alert (and possibly guilt-ridden) eye watching out for her trainer, but she has her story straight, so hiding is unnecessary.

Comments

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

Speaking of eyes, there's a pair of small, steady blue ones aimed right at her.

[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

Blue is met by blue after a short while. Goldy waves amiably.

"Hello, Mary. How are you?"

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

"I am well," Mary says, seriously. "I have been working in my garden in the greenhouse."

[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

"Oh, that's good."

"I am also well," she replies pre-emptively before inclining her head a touch. "You have your own garden?"

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

"I have two gardens," Mary informs her, rather proudly. "One is here, and one is at home - it is nearly summer there, though, so I do not need to grow things in a greenhouse."

[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

"Of course not."

Adaptable and accommodating as ever, Goldy is remarkably level with her tone tonight. She comes across as positively engaged and not patronizing at all.

"And what do you grow in each one, specifically?"

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

"Oh, lots of things," Mary says, loftily. "Crocuses, and snowdrops, and lilies o' the valley - I like lilies o' the valley best; they are the ones that look like little bells."

[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

She smiles fondly.

"Do you know the legend of the Lily-of-the-Valley?"

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

Mary shakes her head, her eyes going a little round.

"No - I only heard of lilies o' the valley because I asked Dickon if there were flowers shaped like bells. I did not know there was a story."

[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

"It is said that Saint Leonard fought against a great dragon in a forest of South England—Sussex, if I recall correctly."

"He only managed to vanquish it after a mortal combat that lasted many hours, during which he received grievous wounds. But wherever his blood fell, Lilies-of-the-Valley sprang up to commemorate the desperate fight. The woods, which bear the name of Saint Leonard's Forest to this day, are still thickly carpeted with them."

She narrates smoothly without impressing any sense of intellectual arrogance.

"Legend also says that the fragrance of the Lily-of-the-Valley draws the nightingale to it, and leads him to choose his mate in the vicinity."

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

Mary listens solemnly to the story, with round eyes; one has the sense that she's studying every word.

"I did not know heros had anything to do with flowers," she says, seriously, when the story is finished. "I like them better now, I think - heros, I mean."

[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

"You didn't think much of them before?" she follows up with a slight smirk. "What's wrong with heroes?"

[mistressmaryquitecontrary]

"I do not have anything against them," Mary says, matter-of-factly. "I like the stories - only making things grow is better than making things die."

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

Cypher is smashed, and also at the bar. And checking Goldy out. Freely staring at her breasts through the turtleneck. Hey, it doesn't help that they've actually slept together.

[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

Goldy doesn't mind the ogling. In fact, she might just straighten a little to further exacerbate her curves.

"Miss them?" she inquires idly.

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

Cypher downs half a glass of Johnnie Walker. He's actually holding the bottle and the glass.

"Yeah," he says roughly. And honestly. "Those were good."

[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

"They still are," she says with a smirk. Someone's a bit full of herself tonight.

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

"Yeah, but they're not in my hands."

He reaches out with a hand, in fact, as if he's threatening to grab one.

[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

She doesn't react. The lazy smirk holds, almost daring him.

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

Oh, why the hell not - he's drunk anyway. His expression turns sly as the hand makes a beeline for one of her tits.

[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

She leans back ever so slightly as the hand approaches, making her chest just a few more crucial inches away. A particularly cruel part of her wonders if she can keep retreating until he over-balances.

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

He might've, except he's finally smart enough to get off the stool and just advance towards her. Whereupon, unless she bats him away (or something more violent), she's gonna find herself liplocked with a whiskey-tasting hacker.

[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

She brings her wine glass up to her mouth instead, still smirking all the while.

"Easy, Cyph." She sniffs his breath and rolls her eyes. "I wouldn't want you to start something that you can't finish."

[steak-man.livejournal.com]

He stops, confused by the glass that seems to block his lips from hers, and plants a sloppy kiss on her cheek instead.

"I'll be fine," he mutters. But he really does reek. "You don't think you'd be in capable hands, baby?"

[3rdtimelucky.livejournal.com]

She allows the kiss with a slightly put upon expression.

"It's not your hands I'm necessarily worried about. Just how ripped are you?"