Re: (After)life: Nel L & Lear L
She wasn't perturbed by the mimicry. She gave him a fond sort of smile, one that said she'd tolerate his bad behavior where she might not do the same for others. That look lingered on, warming and become a thing of self-comprehension, of secrets that he did not share. "Dearest, the experienced ones are lovely, but there's something to be said for a flower that wants badly to bloom—and simply has not done so yet. I'm not saying I've an interest in a scared little miss, but a wild thing that simply hasn't been touched yet is something divine. I'd recommend one, if you can find it and get to it before I do." She regarded her brother. "Please tell me you're not one of those fast, fumbling idiots who think sex is about penetration." She gave him a lingering look, something resembling delight in muted times. "And please do tell me you last more than three minutes."
She was readying the cameras as he spoke of the woman who'd caught his fancy in town. "What does cleaning up of one's life entail?" She had notions and she didn't truly care about this girl he spoke of, not beyond the interest garnered for drawing his attention in the first place. "Hmm," another hum, this one about the trailer park that played host to Repose's hooker population. "I've no interest in paying for sex, but I find it interesting that they operate here, where it's illegal, and with full immunity from the law." It was something to muse over. Nel had no issues with illegal activity, but she found the entire enterprise somewhat fascinating. "Is there a madam who keeps the cut?" she asked idly, lifting her gelid attention to his pretty face. "Getting straight to it sounds prosaic, as Rae would say."
The camera in her hands was merely an extension of the woman holding it. She advanced the film, and then she held the wooden grip as she stood and pointed. She hummed again, not having taken any pictures and having made a decision when looking through the lens. She walked back to the box she'd retrieved the camera from, and, after a few moments of sifting, she snapped a flash on. The flash itself was opaqued to nearly yellowing, deliberately so, and when she tested it against her palm it was muted. She hummed once more, and then she returned to the couch. She looked through the lens again, and she pressed down the shutter button. Release, and she moved closer, until she was standing above him and looking down—always through the lens. "You can do whatever you like." She advanced the film and snapped again.