[Karen just about manages not to roll her eyes at that approving murmur. Theoretically, she can see the appeal of the - inherent level of trust necessary in the dynamic. Trust has never come easily to her. It was hard even when she was a restless teenager, even before everything went down with her ex. The issue has only compounded in the long years since then. But the way that Kingpin and the club have made things, there's just...no space for that kind of thing.
She still doesn't back off when he straightens up, way too inside of her personal bubble for comfort. Just studies his face from this different vantage, like she might be able to suss out what he's thinking about if she has enough time to work at it. There's already a picture forming somewhere in the back of her mind. Impersonal, but concerned with fairness. Solitary. Motivated.]
Okay.
[Still wary. She shifts her weight a little, taking a moment to appreciate the lack of restriction. He's already moving away, towards the kitchen, apparently to do something about dinner.
She takes a step, and then pauses, looking down at her hands as something occurs to her. She's not going to be able to get the dress off with the cuffs on. Sure, she could tear the straps off, but then it won't stay up. Or she could just let it...hang off the cuff chain and get sopping wet. There's no particular attachment to the dress. But she also doesn't exactly relish the idea of sitting around in a wet dress all night.]
Hey, uh, John.
[Look, in the absence of a name, she's just going to make up one of her own. She moves into the kitchen doorway and lifts her hands. There's no hiding the hint of annoyance in her voice.]
Any bright ideas on how I get dressed with these on?
no subject
She still doesn't back off when he straightens up, way too inside of her personal bubble for comfort. Just studies his face from this different vantage, like she might be able to suss out what he's thinking about if she has enough time to work at it. There's already a picture forming somewhere in the back of her mind. Impersonal, but concerned with fairness. Solitary. Motivated.]
Okay.
[Still wary. She shifts her weight a little, taking a moment to appreciate the lack of restriction. He's already moving away, towards the kitchen, apparently to do something about dinner.
She takes a step, and then pauses, looking down at her hands as something occurs to her. She's not going to be able to get the dress off with the cuffs on. Sure, she could tear the straps off, but then it won't stay up. Or she could just let it...hang off the cuff chain and get sopping wet. There's no particular attachment to the dress. But she also doesn't exactly relish the idea of sitting around in a wet dress all night.]
Hey, uh, John.
[Look, in the absence of a name, she's just going to make up one of her own. She moves into the kitchen doorway and lifts her hands. There's no hiding the hint of annoyance in her voice.]
Any bright ideas on how I get dressed with these on?