Gabriel Rousseau will laugh at your funeral. (mortel) wrote in immune_ic,
The Frenchman watched with careful eyes as Ellie seemed to struggle with the bag. She hid it well, by trying to move her shoulders, but Gabriel always noticed when one struggled. There was almost a distant look of pain or discomfort and those were signs and looks that he was very familiar with. Instead of bathing in the sight, he spoke up, voice as charming as ever. "Here. Let me help you with the bag." He extended a hand but found himself drawing it down Ellie's arm. Such pale and young sin, untouched in any violent way. So far, he hadn't seen any scars. Perfect flesh. She didn't look like any of his victims, but she had an appeal to her.
It must have been her youth, or how, without knowing her, she seemed soft and docile. He couldn't help but brush a strand of hair away fro her face, blue eyes locked with green tinted ones. "I'm glad you asked me to come with you," he spoke, soft and gentle. Like someone who took interest in her and was flattered he was chosen.
Chose to stay with her. Chosen to admire her while she did her scavenging.
He moved away and smiled, trying to give off the impression that he didn't intent to make her feel uncomfortable. He was merely admiring her youthful beauty. He wouldn't dare to touch her again. Not now.
Not yet.
Motioning towards his bag, he opened it and showed all that was inside. "We could help a lot of people with these and also could make some valuable trades."