Re: shiloh & harlow ; dancing
Shiloh was often high, and when he wasn't high, he was medicated to the gills. Such was life, and she'd never experienced him without some method of pharmaceutical in his system. Before the drugs, it had been booze, and even sober he was loud and impossible, so it wasn't much different. The powder gave him energy he otherwise lacked lately, so there was that, and he lolled his head and looked over at her in the room of dullards and warm lighting. "They certainty haven't felt like they were dead. Perhaps they think they have, but they haven't. Can't you see it in their stupid faces? Their lack of comprehension about what the world can truly be? They all think they have it worse than everyone else, but they're here, laughing dully, and being dull," he said to her, and then he laughed. "Of course, I'm thinking the same thing, that I have it worse. But I intend to live to the fullest to compensate," he assured her.
She suggested theft, and he found that all his mental promises about good behavior and the assurance that he not find himself behind bars, these things were all but forgotten in her presence.
She stood, and he pushed himself up and followed. He grabbed her hand in his, and he moved ahead of her and tugged, looking over his shoulder and gracing her with a wink that proclaimed trouble in sooty lashes. "I will lead, my lady," he promised, "and should the host attempt to apprehend us, I will ensure you escape safely," he assured her, falsely gallant. Or perhaps he meant it, in that moment of glowing lamps and burnished wood, and as he tugged on her hand.