Oh, is that how it is? That's a clever way of inviting yourself into my company more often.
[But he can read a hint, and so he heads with her in the direction of the cafe — and the disparity in treatment, even implicitly, is frankly astonishing. Where Hilda gets sidelong looks and scrutinizing gazes from the resort staff and assembled residents, they all seem to sit up a little straighter and take notice when he sweeps in at her side. A funny little bubble of protection, almost, that he casts just by existing in the vicinity.
Not that he notices, really. That type of treatment is entirely what he's used to — perhaps even with a little less groveling than he might otherwise expect.
Still, with him in the lead, the trip up to the counter is fairly short — as people who might've been thinking about getting in line prudently decide to wait until the Ten has been served — and he gestures for Hilda to put in her order on their arrival.]
Whatever she likes. Charge it to my room — and it had better come out correct.
[ There's no point in denying it. If she wanted to be subtle about it she would have been. And she gets the impression that someone like Rufus appreciated some level of straightforwardness. Her intentions are clear as they had been before this but she's got enough of a read on him now to know that friends isn't a concept so easily grasped when you are used to reading into potential ulterior motives or doing it out of personal duty or responsibilities handed to them.
She allows him to take the lead up to the counter, ignoring the way they scrutinize her with barely veiled distaste and at Rufus like he's very nearly hung the stars. The forced ignorance isn't something she's used to quite yet though there have been moments where she's found herself appreciating it. But she would be lying if she said that she doesn't appreciate being taken seriously even if it comes at the expense of having to be with a higher ranking guest. Rufus' demand is met with a sidelong glance from her but she wastes no time ordering, punctuating it with a sweet smile of thanks that is only hesitantly returned out of fear by the staff behind the counter. She waits for him to finish ordering before they seat themselves and launches right back into questioning him. ]
Is your friend the only one that you know from home?
[Truth be told, there's something eminently enjoyable about having Hilda at his side when he throws his weight around like this; it's one thing to be fawned over, and certainly he'd have his objections to it if he were ever deprived of that particular birthright of his. But what's even more fun is the power play of knowing full well that the resort staff doesn't want to extend the same courtesy to his companion that they're delighted to offer him. Getting what he wants is always sweeter when he knows full well his opposition doesn't want to give it up.
And Hilda, too, seems to grasp that game, if her winning smiles are any indication. When they sit, he opts to play it up just a little, sliding one hand across the tabletop to rest just the tips of his fingers over her own, like a warning to the staff that his influence covers her as figuratively as his touch does literally.]
He's the only one that matters. Evidently there have been a few others around; none that would be all that eager to spend time with me.
[He pauses.]
One was a girl. You might've gotten along with her.
[ At his touch her gaze flits down towards their fingers. And while he'll be able to see the slight twitch of her eyebrow and the lift of the corner of her lips in amusement what the staff sees is someone who leans in across the table. Her foot slides forward, touching briefly against his shoe. To them it could be seen as affectionate or possessive, but to her it's entirely conspiratorial in nature.
She's played enough of these games to know understand the subtleties being laid before her. And this, while silly and frivolous, is no less enjoyable. For a moment she can forget that she's here. She can leave the sounds of war that haunt her dreams. This is just a pleasant day spending time with someone who may or may not be her friend. ]
What makes you say that? Our nose for mischief? Our sparkling personalities?
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no subject
[But he can read a hint, and so he heads with her in the direction of the cafe — and the disparity in treatment, even implicitly, is frankly astonishing. Where Hilda gets sidelong looks and scrutinizing gazes from the resort staff and assembled residents, they all seem to sit up a little straighter and take notice when he sweeps in at her side. A funny little bubble of protection, almost, that he casts just by existing in the vicinity.
Not that he notices, really. That type of treatment is entirely what he's used to — perhaps even with a little less groveling than he might otherwise expect.
Still, with him in the lead, the trip up to the counter is fairly short — as people who might've been thinking about getting in line prudently decide to wait until the Ten has been served — and he gestures for Hilda to put in her order on their arrival.]
Whatever she likes. Charge it to my room — and it had better come out correct.
no subject
[ There's no point in denying it. If she wanted to be subtle about it she would have been. And she gets the impression that someone like Rufus appreciated some level of straightforwardness. Her intentions are clear as they had been before this but she's got enough of a read on him now to know that friends isn't a concept so easily grasped when you are used to reading into potential ulterior motives or doing it out of personal duty or responsibilities handed to them.
She allows him to take the lead up to the counter, ignoring the way they scrutinize her with barely veiled distaste and at Rufus like he's very nearly hung the stars. The forced ignorance isn't something she's used to quite yet though there have been moments where she's found herself appreciating it. But she would be lying if she said that she doesn't appreciate being taken seriously even if it comes at the expense of having to be with a higher ranking guest. Rufus' demand is met with a sidelong glance from her but she wastes no time ordering, punctuating it with a sweet smile of thanks that is only hesitantly returned out of fear by the staff behind the counter. She waits for him to finish ordering before they seat themselves and launches right back into questioning him. ]
Is your friend the only one that you know from home?
no subject
And Hilda, too, seems to grasp that game, if her winning smiles are any indication. When they sit, he opts to play it up just a little, sliding one hand across the tabletop to rest just the tips of his fingers over her own, like a warning to the staff that his influence covers her as figuratively as his touch does literally.]
He's the only one that matters. Evidently there have been a few others around; none that would be all that eager to spend time with me.
[He pauses.]
One was a girl. You might've gotten along with her.
no subject
She's played enough of these games to know understand the subtleties being laid before her. And this, while silly and frivolous, is no less enjoyable. For a moment she can forget that she's here. She can leave the sounds of war that haunt her dreams. This is just a pleasant day spending time with someone who may or may not be her friend. ]
What makes you say that? Our nose for mischief? Our sparkling personalities?