―as cloudlike clusters of bubbles spring up from where the faucet-stream meets the water, Adeline tucks her gloves into the frill of her apron and turns to rest against the basin of the bath; his gaze goes unnoticed as she pulls the ribbon from her blouse, spilling golden hair over her features to gather it into a ponytail, to tie it. There's something markedly different about how she looks now― something comfortably feminine, as opposed to the tight and perfect laces that come together before she leaves their cottage. Something about her seems much more earnest, but it isn't purposeful. She's unaware of it.
She lifts her head, perking as she notices his eyes on her, her collar having fallen open beneath her throat to offer a glimpse of her skin and a gilded chain. Ada smiles and lifts her head a little, like she was posing for a portrait he might be painting. "―is something the matter? I can't tell if you might like me to leave, or come over, or if you're just looking at me."
There's no point in veiling what she might be thinking― not to her, at least. She hopes her honesty can help them understand eachother, to sate the curiosity his stare pulls on in her. In the meantime, she starts to roll up a sleeve in evenly spaced sections.
no subject
She lifts her head, perking as she notices his eyes on her, her collar having fallen open beneath her throat to offer a glimpse of her skin and a gilded chain. Ada smiles and lifts her head a little, like she was posing for a portrait he might be painting. "―is something the matter? I can't tell if you might like me to leave, or come over, or if you're just looking at me."
There's no point in veiling what she might be thinking― not to her, at least. She hopes her honesty can help them understand eachother, to sate the curiosity his stare pulls on in her. In the meantime, she starts to roll up a sleeve in evenly spaced sections.