[ She chuckles at that; she should know far better, and does, but the thought of him running restless circles around her court is a tickling one, at least briefly. Though the fact that she, of course, neither technically has to sit still, nor is technically alone in this orb, she will keep to herself. ] We certainly can. I would hate to fall into a rut with something I have only just discovered.
[ Or rather, rediscovered. Something that she's good at again. Sneaking, ratting things out, even if she can only achieve it by proxy. She leaves her smirk on to match his scoff, though she remains silent in favor of listening to his tinkerings with... whatever it is he's brought. ]
[ As the device clicks and hums and scratches—soft, foreign noises, that somehow sound as if they could be much louder, were they not produced by such practiced hands—her smile fades in favor of attention. An ear tilts to the scratches as they smooth as if by witchcraft into a gentle beat, and the voice that picks up under Richie's feels strangely haunting. A different voice, for sure—colder, but bolder, perhaps—still a melancholic ambling that finds her vaguely nostalgic. ]
[ The sound, as it plays on, turns out to be much simpler to lose oneself in than the lyrics. Though she is used to that by now, Tariq forever spinning verses in a language she could only partially grasp, electric irons and TVs are hardly the worst of her ignorances when it comes to enjoying a tune. ]
Better days indeed, [ she hums faintly, though maybe better isn't the word for hers, there are certainly things she found herself missing from home. Such as, surprisingly, a mourning old man with a lute. ] I think it is rather pleasant, I must admit. As well as fascinating, that you can reproduce these songs whenever you wish... Do you have an awful lot of them? I am not sure I could imagine myself listening to this for more than a few days.
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Dermatologists hate her!][ She chuckles at that; she should know far better, and does, but the thought of him running restless circles around her court is a tickling one, at least briefly. Though the fact that she, of course, neither technically has to sit still, nor is technically alone in this orb, she will keep to herself. ] We certainly can. I would hate to fall into a rut with something I have only just discovered.
[ Or rather, rediscovered. Something that she's good at again. Sneaking, ratting things out, even if she can only achieve it by proxy. She leaves her smirk on to match his scoff, though she remains silent in favor of listening to his tinkerings with... whatever it is he's brought. ]
[ As the device clicks and hums and scratches—soft, foreign noises, that somehow sound as if they could be much louder, were they not produced by such practiced hands—her smile fades in favor of attention. An ear tilts to the scratches as they smooth as if by witchcraft into a gentle beat, and the voice that picks up under Richie's feels strangely haunting. A different voice, for sure—colder, but bolder, perhaps—still a melancholic ambling that finds her vaguely nostalgic. ]
[ The sound, as it plays on, turns out to be much simpler to lose oneself in than the lyrics. Though she is used to that by now, Tariq forever spinning verses in a language she could only partially grasp, electric irons and TVs are hardly the worst of her ignorances when it comes to enjoying a tune. ]
Better days indeed, [ she hums faintly, though maybe better isn't the word for hers, there are certainly things she found herself missing from home. Such as, surprisingly, a mourning old man with a lute. ] I think it is rather pleasant, I must admit. As well as fascinating, that you can reproduce these songs whenever you wish... Do you have an awful lot of them? I am not sure I could imagine myself listening to this for more than a few days.