retroductions | reverie overflow.

[ …

Well, damn.]

That is not even-

[Fine. With his long limbs, and with a boosted height courtesy of a magic stone, Sholmes latches onto the lip of the grave and hoists himself up. Up and over.]

-half as exciting as I had hoped it would be. But thank you, all the same.

[ tempting to cease concentration and let him find his way out on his own, but she's not quite that petty, this time. because he was making out with her two minutes ago. ]

Oh, did I disappoint you with useful assistance? I apologize for practical magic.

[Straightening almost as soon as his feet touch solid ground. He has dirt on his trousers’ knees, and on the elbows of his jacket.]

I did say thank you, didn’t I? Now then, where to?

[ boy, imagine what her ENTIRE BACK looks like. this is going to be such an obvious walk of shame. oh Mammon. ]

...Motel?

[Come now, it can’t possibly be the worst walk of shame this place has ever seen.]

Motel it is. In the meanwhile, let us not forget where we left off.

[He gestures with his hand in the direction of the motel, a little flourish of the wrist. Ladies first, but he will fall into step with her on the way.]

[ she has a brisk, prim gait. and, because she is a cheater, she Prestidigitates herself clean on the way. :) her ponytail is still lopsided, though. ]

Where we left off? You mean your hands on my rear?

[Here is a fun fact: Sholmes often lives in a messy state, and does not mind when such a mess is smeared across his clothes out of necessity. But beyond those instances, he is almost contradictorily clean -- fastidious, precise in his presentation.

So it is cheating, yes, that she can clean herself off so easily, while he is left simply patting off the dirt accumulated at his elbows. And then the dirt from that from his palms!!]

And my mouth on your neck.

[ you could always ask politely! because it does not appear that she thinks to offer, as she huffs a laugh and arches her brow at him ]

Are you having fun, sir? One might almost think this is not only about boxes on card anymore.

[Oh, he’s fine dusting himself off without the use of magic. Old habits, and all. Sholmes just grins at her while they walk, as if the answer should be obvious.]

Of course. I do not pursue that which I do not find at least a little intriguing. Beyond that, your company has always been pleasant — I hope you can say much the same in return.

[Yes, he’s having fun.]

[ well, what's wrong with a little weirdly-timed sincerity? if she doesn't say it, she'll never say it, and if he's wrong and he does end up in solitary, wouldn't that just eat her alive to have not said it? ] Certainly. I am glad to know you.

You are bright spot in my days here.

[ it seems like she's leading them towards one motel room in particular, once they're there. hm. ]

And I am eager to instruct you, should you have any talent for magic.

[A bright spot? He is glad to hear it; it warms him a little, needles itself right into that sentimental gooey middle that he harbors beneath all of his performative displays, his analytical assessments.]

...And even if I do not, I can at least promise that I will be one of the more interesting students you have ever taught.

[Quite an understatement, that.

The motel is upon them, and yes, it does appear that they are winding their way to a very specific room. She could have just picked any old empty one, after all.]

Aiming for somewhere in particular?

[ a look of surprise flashes over her features when he comments on it—she hadn't even realized the automatic nature of moving to that same motel room as always. ]

...No. Well. It is just my room.

[Oh, even more curious — in the sense that he might be able to take a gander about her room, at some point, like the very nosy detective he is.]

And what secrets lie in wait for me there, I wonder.

Oh. You misunderstand. My room before I took to Basilisk.

[ and, indeed, when she stops them in front of room 7 and opens the door, it looks pretty much like any other room. ]

[WELL there could still be secrets here. Perhaps.

—but that does not seem to be the case, even if his eyes seek out anything of interest as he steps into the room.]

Ah, so I have built up my anticipation for nothing.

[He kids; he is obviously not wholly disappointed. It at least reconciles the wonderment of why her room would be outside the confines of her team’s dorm — simply, that it isn’t.

Sholmes begins to shrug off his letterman’s jacket, idly.]

Before Basilisk, though…?

[ at most, maybe there's some extra toiletries in the washroom, or some extra clothes in the drawers. she watches him shed the jacket from the corner of her vision ]

We were early into this dream. I did not want any part in it.

[He tosses the jacket aside, uncaring where it lands. Takes care of the "remove a piece of clothing" square from his card, at least.]

And only a middling more of a part in it now, I assume.

[Only where newfound friends and connections come in. There is little else enticing about this prison. The last game still has left a sour, lingering note, even if this one feels far more whimsical to make up for it.]

Well, no need to linger on such a dour subject right now. Close the door and- [He extends a hand, beckoning her closer.] -come.

[ only then. he's precisely right. she wants the people who have gone and to keep the people who are still here, and she wants the vast amounts of knowledge that she could wring from Reverie if there only weren't constant trials shoved down their throats.

she scoffs gently at that turn of phrase, nudges the door shut with her heel. and sure, moves into his space, which makes the glaring difference in their heights even more apparent ]

Not on command, I'm afraid.

But certainly with a little encouragement we can manage it.

[-he retorts, his tone indicative of biting back a laugh due to her rather licentious wordplay. When Sprezzatura nears, his extended hand loops around to the small of her back, slipping beneath her jacket, drawing her close enough that their bodies touch. His fingers quest beneath the fabric of her sweater, seeking skin.]

Now, as I recall--during our graveyard encounter--you complained about me not being able to reach certain areas of your body. Might we ply a solution to that problem now?

[ he'll feel the finest fanning of goosebumps up her spine, and also her tailtwitch. with a slow, measured exhale, she sets her jaw and lifts her chin so she can look him in the eye. ]

We might.

What does our great detective deem suitable?

[His fingertips brush up and down her skin, teasing at the faint texture of those goosebumps. The feel of a twitch of her tail registers slightly — he wonders just how revealing of a tell it will be, by the time all is said and done.]

I think the swift removal of your garments might do the trick.

[Or at least that jacket and jumper, ma’am.]

Elementary. [ is she teasing him back or just being sarcastic? hard to tell with her diction. after a moment, she lifts her hands to shrug out of her jacket and toss it next to his. the sweater is clingy enough that, to a keen eye, it's clear she is not wearing anything else beneath it, so... not fully era-accurate. ] Mind your step.

[ as she settles her hands flat to his belly, next—

and begins to walk him backwards towards the wall ]

[It's not as though he has a trademark on the word, but elementary feels like some kind of teasing. Maybe more so when he finds himself pushed backwards, step by step, until his back jostles faintly against the wall. In the process, yes, he does note how very close her sweater clings to the curve of her body. Not leaving very much left to the imagination, is she?]

Oh, is it my turn now?

[To be pushed up against a wall. Cheeky bastard. (At least it isn't a grave.)

In the meanwhile, Sholmes allows his other hand to slip beneath the front of her sweater, trailing upwards to her chest.]

It is on my card. [ a lofty tone, considering she can't reach his mouth to kiss him, or hike his legs around her hips and pin him in place like a butterfly. not at her height. ] And you wish to help me with my card.

[ what she can do is geeeeently slip her tail around them both, looping it about his waist like a sash. her heart is beating harder, faster... should he choose to palm over it ]

I do.

[He looks down at her, frustratingly making it no easier to kiss him, nor much of anything else. Only watching her expression with a keen sort of curiosity, taking in the heat of her body -- stopping to palm at the curve of her breast.

Though his eyes do flick downwards to observe how her tail winds around them both, tantalizingly deft.]

Though at some point, surely the pretense of bingo will be dropped altogether.

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