Derek knows all of life is (cyclical) wrote in rooms,
Re: Mariner's Inn: Jeze C/Max M
[Jeze happened to fit into the part of society that didn't know - or that was content not looking. Oh she knew something was up with Max, but it was only something she noticed because of rule one and Max (along with Max's till) were not the right person to liberate something from. It gave her time to see other things without looking too deeply.
Everyone was entitled to their secrets, even her, though she hid hers behind a smile and a slightly vapid constitutional air. One thing she'd learned by playing against society's rules was that few people rarely looked beneath the surface if they already determined you were a certain class of person.
It was most useful.
She glanced over her shoulder, just to make sure it was Max and not one of her drunken patrons entering the wrong room before smiling, wide and bright, and clambered onto the bed to start shucking her dress. She'd already emptied her pockets onto the small stand, leaving two smallish piles of glitter and precious metals.] Close the door. I've got a bracelet digging into my ribs and it's dreadful. [There were all sorts of rules about propriety when one was in society, but here she could do as she pleased, and be as anachronistic as Max's jeans.] Tell me that one day you'll at least think about leather breeches, doeskin brown. [Black was - everything was black and dirty. Brown would be a welcome change.
She shivered out of her dress, leaving it like a cloud of mint green at her feet and stood - half-naked by the current standards - in her camisole, knickers, and the dreaded corset. She braced both hands against the wall.] Come, I would be ever so grateful if you would rescue me with your shears.