miles baines: riff-raff! street rat! (mimicks) wrote in emillion,
Rena & Miles | Morning | complete!
“Enjoying the festival,” she replied promptly, a hand snaking out to tug at a loosely tied scarf from a woman’s neck. The scarf came away easily and quickly disappeared under Rena’s clothes. Rena’s definition of ‘enjoyment’ was a little loose, and usually involved other people losing possessions of some kind.
“Making an appearance at Ivory later. They’re expecting a full house.”
“Hm.” Her smooth lift of the scarf made an idea plant itself in Miles’ head, taking seed and germinating. It was especially hard to score clothing off someone while they were wearing it. As they turned the corner, he glanced back and caught a glimpse of the woman lightly touching her neck: an absentminded gesture, as if she’d forgotten something and couldn’t quite place what it was.
The idea grew branches.
“You can dance yourself naked to portly Kerwonian tourists. Me, I’ll be drinking myself quite pleasantly stupid.” A beat and then Miles paused to reconsider, his hand drifting to the small of her back. “Or perhaps I can sneak in and catch your show.”
“And drink yourself stupid. They’ve shipped in more than a few kegs from a local brewery making Kerwonian-style brew.” She tilted her head to look up at him, a smirk forming on her face. “Or were you just interested in seeing me naked?”
A mollified expression of pure, exaggerated innocence is all she got in return, Miles’ pale eyes widening: “Who, me? Whoever implied I had such nefarious motives? Can’t I just enjoy the pleasure of your company, rather than your—assets?”
To punctuate his point, his hand slipped lower and playfully squeezed.
Rena squealed appropriately, her elbow playfully digging into his ribs as she laughed. “If it was just my company you were after, Ivory wouldn’t be the place to be seeking it out. Besides, you probably couldn’t afford Ana.” She winked.
“I certainly couldn’t,” he said. The implication was there: if Miles Baines couldn’t, then perhaps a particular nobleman could.
But then he switched gears, veering back to finally plucking that idea: “I think I’ll spend the day strolling down memory lane,” Miles declared, surveying the seething crowds around them. The street was packed full of people, each one of them walking wallets for so-called bards. “Warm up some old muscles.”
“My favourite way to spend a festival day. It’s hard to resist.” Rena wriggled out from under his arm, turning so she was walking backwards in front of him.
“If you do drop by, let the door bitch know Anastasia invited you. She’ll give you a good table.” And with that, Rena disappeared into those seething crowds. There were targets to find, gil to be had, and she was sure she’d see Miles around again at some point.