[ Isaac opens the door and, without truly meaning to, Alayne lights up the way a room fills with light the moment a switch is thrown or a candle is lit. Lady takes to the man immediately (much like as with Chuck only warmer), that bat bat bat against Chuck's leg only intensifying before she breaks from her mistresses side completely and pads into the small suite of rooms as if she truly belonged there.
Alayne does not hesitate to follow after, though she pauses long enough to return Isaac's nod with a tiny curtsey of her own. This looks and feels, on her part, almost perfunctory in the way her gaze lowers not out of modesty but amusement, some unspoken exchange passing briefly between her and Isaac before she too brushes past, her hand very briefly touching his elbow as she does so. There is an air about her now that is decidedly different than when it had simply been her and Ranger Hansen. She seems young, not in naive way, but in a way that is self-aware and almost mischevious; a mix of don't be cross with me and look what I've found and he's awful, just wait and see. The transition between one version of Alayne and the next is practically seamless, a deft trading of temperaments. If Chuck is a dog whose bark she must suffer, Isaac is like a modest star whose sunlight she's eager to drink.
She moves about the room with easy familiarity, pausing at his table to study the tools he's laid out, a hand touching his notebook. ] Four hands, Isaac? [ she asks.
no subject
Alayne does not hesitate to follow after, though she pauses long enough to return Isaac's nod with a tiny curtsey of her own. This looks and feels, on her part, almost perfunctory in the way her gaze lowers not out of modesty but amusement, some unspoken exchange passing briefly between her and Isaac before she too brushes past, her hand very briefly touching his elbow as she does so. There is an air about her now that is decidedly different than when it had simply been her and Ranger Hansen. She seems young, not in naive way, but in a way that is self-aware and almost mischevious; a mix of don't be cross with me and look what I've found and he's awful, just wait and see. The transition between one version of Alayne and the next is practically seamless, a deft trading of temperaments. If Chuck is a dog whose bark she must suffer, Isaac is like a modest star whose sunlight she's eager to drink.
She moves about the room with easy familiarity, pausing at his table to study the tools he's laid out, a hand touching his notebook. ] Four hands, Isaac? [ she asks.
(Do you need my help?) ] Or simply two?