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{V:tM - IC} New York by Night
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<blockquote data-quote="Tory Adore" data-source="post: 852584" data-attributes="member: 11152"><p>Biting her lower lip, Vych raises her brows that frame her smiling eyes as she smoothes her hands from her chin down her neck resuming a standing pose. Her left hand continues to the goblet, but her right stops at the side of her neck, moving the angora sweater aside; a finger gently tapping as if in thought on a seemingly pulsing vein, </p><p>“<em>Mmm… I could make some conjectures as to your... um ‘measure’.</em>” <img src="https://cdn.jsdelivr.net/joypixels/assets/8.0/png/unicode/64/1f609.png" class="smilie smilie--emoji" loading="lazy" width="64" height="64" alt=";)" title="Wink ;)" data-smilie="2"data-shortname=";)" /></p><p><span style="font-size: 9px">[OOC - per/subterfuge to see if he was alluding to feeding from her]</span> </p><p></p><p>Vych watches Jemal turn away to examine the room again. Images of the earlier evening’s events flashed in her mind. Vych closes her eyes briefly taking in his scent and placing it in her mind next to the mental picture she had painted of him while he was driving her car. She hears Jemal’s question, which awakens her back to the moment. She flutters her lids open to look in his direction. She shakes her head a bit and leans down taking a black bottle etched with a swan on its surface from a special holding area below the bar. It is a personal favorite of hers as far as bottled vitae goes.</p><p></p><p>Uncorking and pouring a small amount of the thick, succulent, burgundy nectar from the black bottle, Vych says as the image of the woman from downstairs enters her thoughts again at Jemal’s words,</p><p><em>”Well, actually…I…I’ve never met her before….but”</em></p><p></p><p>Vych sets the bottle down on the counter. She walks around the bar to where Jemal is standing as she holds the goblet to her chest with both hands, eyes somewhat lightly fixated on the sculpture of Carrick’s sire with the left side of her body coming to rest against Jemal’s. Talking in a softened voice (to a sensitive ear, one might even pick out a slight tremble), </p><p><em>”Jemal, can I tell you something in confidence?”</em></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Tory Adore, post: 852584, member: 11152"] Biting her lower lip, Vych raises her brows that frame her smiling eyes as she smoothes her hands from her chin down her neck resuming a standing pose. Her left hand continues to the goblet, but her right stops at the side of her neck, moving the angora sweater aside; a finger gently tapping as if in thought on a seemingly pulsing vein, “[I]Mmm… I could make some conjectures as to your... um ‘measure’.[/I]” ;) [size=1][OOC - per/subterfuge to see if he was alluding to feeding from her][/size] Vych watches Jemal turn away to examine the room again. Images of the earlier evening’s events flashed in her mind. Vych closes her eyes briefly taking in his scent and placing it in her mind next to the mental picture she had painted of him while he was driving her car. She hears Jemal’s question, which awakens her back to the moment. She flutters her lids open to look in his direction. She shakes her head a bit and leans down taking a black bottle etched with a swan on its surface from a special holding area below the bar. It is a personal favorite of hers as far as bottled vitae goes. Uncorking and pouring a small amount of the thick, succulent, burgundy nectar from the black bottle, Vych says as the image of the woman from downstairs enters her thoughts again at Jemal’s words, [I]”Well, actually…I…I’ve never met her before….but”[/I] Vych sets the bottle down on the counter. She walks around the bar to where Jemal is standing as she holds the goblet to her chest with both hands, eyes somewhat lightly fixated on the sculpture of Carrick’s sire with the left side of her body coming to rest against Jemal’s. Talking in a softened voice (to a sensitive ear, one might even pick out a slight tremble), [I]”Jemal, can I tell you something in confidence?”[/I] [/QUOTE]
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