angelic_gabe (angelic_gabe) wrote in shadowlands_ic, @ 2018-02-21 21:18:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | gabriel allen |
Who: Gabriel Allen, Bet(NPC)
What: On the prowl
Where: Under a bridge in the Devil's Acre
When: 21 February, 1889
Rating: PG-13
Gabriel sidled up to the woman under the bridge, his breath standing in the bitter coldness of the evening, his eyes sharp and hungry before she turned around to face him, shifting into something warmer, something more human.
“How’s my best girl, then?” He asked, and the woman laughed, shaking her head.
“Cold as tits, and a slow evenin,” she replied. “Care t’ warm me up, then, Angel?”
He leaned in closer, curling in to give a small pocket of warmth and mingled breath. “D’you remember a few years back? You, me, Sukie, a bottle of gin?” His eyes caught hers. “Got me a bottle tonight,” he said, the neck peeking out of his coat, and she laughed once more, throatier this time, and tossed her hair, the memory and suggestion making her cheeks flush and her eyes sparkle.
It wasn’t an easy feat, to make a lady of the evening genuinely blush, but if there was a man in London who could do it, it was him. And while he didn’t care to depend on such sources of nourishment as a general rule for that self-same reason, he didn’t have a great deal of choice at the moment -- beggars took what was offered, and gladly, and, in his case, paid well for it in the hope that would provide an extra spark of affection and passion for what would be an otherwise meagre offering.
“Sukie’s hung up her boots,” Bet replied, grinning, her voice low as they huddled together, “but Pearly Polly up the street’d be game, M’ sure of it.”
“That’s my Bet,” he replied warmly, and kissed her on the cheek. “Come on, then, gorgeous girl, let’s see if she’s in on a bottle and a warmer evening spent in good company.”