( It's your turn this time, Stephen. You came to her for a moon cycle and now she's in your inbox having just woken up as keyed up as ever at the peak of it, and you're who she thought of first. )
I miss seeing you in the mornings, you know. And being able to say "guete morge" over coffee instead of over text. But good morning, Stephen. How are you?
me: pay attention to me. also me: I'll repay the courtesy in maybe two weeks? SORRY BEE here I am
[ She's so unabashedly open. It prompts him to be the same, in his own way. ]
I'm only ever a message away.
[ It's not quite I'm at your beck and call, but it isn't far off. If she asked, it's both possible for him to be there in an instant, and likely.
That said, he's very nearly more aware of the Iris cycle than his own moon now. The date doesn't go missed. ]
Clean bill of health. [ His moon looms elsewhere, his chroma count at a comfortable resting volume. It'll be a while until he's "under the weather" again. But - ] How about you?
my takeaway is: you're actually just a cat on a keyboard
( Unabashedly open? Check. Unashamedly attached? Double-check. They're both aware of one another's cycles as they are who else may fall under them all in their social circles; it was part and parcel of being in this place. With all the other times she always hopes to see him, she should hope he'll never be "under the weather" again, at least not from a low chroma level.
Which goes without saying: )
That's always excellent news for a check-in. As for myself... caffeine deficiency. Low blood pressure. You should come by for breakfast, if you're so inclined. ♥ Make sure I don't keel right over.
( As if she would, but it's as open an invitation as any to help himself. )
( And if she knew it was that easy and that he didn't have anyone else speaking this easily with him, making him smile, she'd be messaging him every day. Good night wishes, too. )
I can cook for you; I need more practice as-is. But if you'd rather not take a gastrointestinal chance on my still-learning attempts, I'll never turn down eggs benedict. I haven't been able to get the hollandaise sauce right yet.
( She appreciates you, Stephen. Very much, and very deeply, and regardless whether or not he maintains the gentleman streak and shows up with breakfast or he lets her cook for him (far more gentlemanly, really, putting something in your mouth of dubious attempts) (not that she'd feed him something that didn't meet her personal and very high expectations; she's mastered omelets ok)— right, regardless, he's getting. SO. Many kisses. Every last kiss she has to give, all his. )
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
text (oct 12, yay iris) u invited ur plurk to ur inboxes ok
I miss seeing you in the mornings, you know.
And being able to say "guete morge" over coffee instead of over text.
But good morning, Stephen.
How are you?
me: pay attention to me. also me: I'll repay the courtesy in maybe two weeks? SORRY BEE here I am
I'm only ever a message away.
[ It's not quite I'm at your beck and call, but it isn't far off. If she asked, it's both possible for him to be there in an instant, and likely.
That said, he's very nearly more aware of the Iris cycle than his own moon now. The date doesn't go missed. ]
Clean bill of health. [ His moon looms elsewhere, his chroma count at a comfortable resting volume. It'll be a while until he's "under the weather" again. But - ] How about you?
my takeaway is: you're actually just a cat on a keyboard
I miss it being a bedsheet away.
( Unabashedly open? Check. Unashamedly attached? Double-check. They're both aware of one another's cycles as they are who else may fall under them all in their social circles; it was part and parcel of being in this place. With all the other times she always hopes to see him, she should hope he'll never be "under the weather" again, at least not from a low chroma level.
Which goes without saying: )
That's always excellent news for a check-in.
As for myself... caffeine deficiency. Low blood pressure.
You should come by for breakfast, if you're so inclined. ♥
Make sure I don't keel right over.
( As if she would, but it's as open an invitation as any to help himself. )
this is an accurate assessment
Whatever the answer to that question, he's more than happy to indulge in it now. ]
You've got the got the time it takes me to pick something up.
Craving anything in particular?
[ Not that food cravings are a particularly Iris thing. Maybe he's a gentleman, maybe he's a joker, maybe he just didn't fucking stutter. Who knows? ]
no subject
I can cook for you; I need more practice as-is.
But if you'd rather not take a gastrointestinal chance on my still-learning attempts, I'll never turn down eggs benedict.
I haven't been able to get the hollandaise sauce right yet.
( She appreciates you, Stephen. Very much, and very deeply, and regardless whether or not he maintains the gentleman streak and shows up with breakfast or he lets her cook for him (far more gentlemanly, really, putting something in your mouth of dubious attempts) (not that she'd feed him something that didn't meet her personal and very high expectations; she's mastered omelets ok)— right, regardless, he's getting. SO. Many kisses. Every last kiss she has to give, all his. )