Re: babs/dami log: the manor
Even in the metropolis offered in New Jersey, with its myriad clubs, bars, and other public houses where youth were meant to gather and preen under strobing lights, Damian hadn't gotten as far as sulking in a corner. He simply never went. He might be coaxed into it here by Barbara and his own curiosity (Barbara would have to dress up and he wondered what that meant, precisely...) that he would never voice, but he would resist as much as he could until then. After all, he was not common riffraff. ...Still, the thought of said common riffraff leering at Barbara in her purely hypothetical outfit would perhaps be motivator enough to get the man to cave.
Presently, the young woman was on the countertop, kicking her feet lightly, her focus solely on him. She looked more than acceptable in the simple outfit of jeans and a t-shirt, he thought. Damian smiled.
"Gazelle," he confirmed, looping closer to Barbara. He gave up on the half-hearted endeavor of finding anything to eat.—She had her palms down against true marble, and Damian faced her as he drew up to the cabinets and her knees. Very matter-of-factly, he informed her, "They are beautiful. It is a term of endearment." And they were and it was. If it spoke to any opinion, it wasn't outright. He did allow his hand to find her knee, however, and that was outright. "Would you recognize it, if it was spoken again?"