Re: The Flibbertigibbet/The Pilot
Romance wasn't all about men. It was a little about men but a girl could romance herself with a little moonlight, a little wine and a little Edith. Men were all obvious, she'd decided that years and years ago. Even the thief, in the compartment with everyone's baggage who ransacked memories for the sake of it, he was obvious. Handsome men were more obvious than the plain kind, but all men assumed and all men wanted and Lili didn't care that all of that was assumption, either.
"I make it a habit of never being alone when I don't want to be," she assured Carter, comfortably. She was travelling without company. She had left him at the last stop. He hadn't wanted to go, but she'd insisted. Lili frowned. It was a little like the clouds coming in on sunshine, a faint dimming of the light. Lili banished the thought, because it was unpleasant and this wasn't unpleasant at all.
"A red dress sounds marvellous. I've got one, somewhere," in fact she had several, but she was thinking of one in particular, cut low over the shoulders and over the bosom. It had slink and Lili was beginning to decide Carter was the kind of woman who could slink. "I couldn't," of the outfit, "It's awful. Sorry." It wasn't awful but it was mannish. "I would look ridiculous. I'm made for sliding about in things and I don't think you can slide in that."
She climbed down from the bed, and fished up a scarf from the floor -- a blue and white thing, French perhaps, and tossed it lightly around Carter's neck. "Scarves though. You could wear a scarf."