[ it should be noted there had been a definitive pause before answering. but that at least implies he'd really thought it through, as opposed to just saying what he thinks she wants. he doesn't know much of illusions (that aren't prompted by grief, or stress, or both) but he supposes if he's to be submitted to one, he can find no better person to guide him along than hamel herself.
she didn't seem particularly cruel, after all.
they lapse into an easy and expected lull when the food arrives. perhaps just as expectedly, the salads weren't too filling at all, and so a shared pasta plate is eventually ordered to fill in the gap. overall, the dinner is a cozy, pleasant thing, though perhaps it is far more casual than the house expects from a date...
because no sooner than marco had stood beside hamel's chair to pull it back for her as she stands, does the lovely dress she wears suddenly flicker out of existence, and he's left staring down at what is certainly not meant for public attention. ]
M-Miss Hamel—!
[ after a brief shock he reacts impulsively, grabbing at the long tablecloth just within reach to draw it over her, covering her from the neck down. it's... quite the commotion, and all their finished plates and glasses go clattering to the floor, some breaking in the process. ]
[ is all Hamel can get out, a bit blankly, when Marco suddenly panics and whips the tablecloth from its god-given place on the table to draw it over her instead. And it's perhaps very clear that she has no idea why he decided to do that, because as far as she's concerned, her dress has never left her body (yet).
The shattering of a couple of the glasses startles her more, backing up a little against Marco in her shock (though she's at least now got a tablecloth over her, saving his eyes apparently). ]
Marco?? Did--something happen?
[ Well, now everyone, diners and waitstaff are staring at the both of them. ]
[ for someone who values pragmatism and forethought, he most certainly did not think this shit through. all around them, the din quiets into an almost deafening silence, as several patrons turn in their seat and blatantly ogle. marco stands, feet planted firmly on the ground, but feeling oddly weightless as if he were floating along in the air, the only thing tethering him to the ground the solid press of hamel's petite body against his.
he is very keenly aware of a heat crawling up the back of his neck, curling around his ears. ]
I'm — not sure.
[ his voice is quiet, hushed. though he knows they've already got the entire restaurant's attention, he doesn't dare raise his next words louder than a whisper, muttered close to her ear. ]
I thought... no, I'm certain... you were unclothed. Just now.
[ he could, of course, check. but he's definitely not going to?! ]
[ Hamel blinks rapidly, then moves the tablecloth just enough to glance down.
And her dress is still there. Where it's been. She'd know if it suddenly vanished, wouldn't she? Was she too deeply distracted to have noticed? More importantly, is he okay?
Tentatively, just as quiet, even though everyone is still staring at them-- ]
I... seem to be dressed. Does it look differently to you?
standing rigid, he whips his head back towards a random spot in the restaurant — some hanging lantern or windchime or some other kind of decoration he honestly couldn't tell you right now it could be a hanging ballsack for all that he's actually paying attention— ]
[ Ideally, he'll do this. As there's the shuffling and the sound of things being shifted and Hamel stepping away to very quietly murmur to the closest server. It may cost... a few more chips than the voucher, because the voucher did not know how to cover broken tableware and someone pilfering a tablecloth, and maybe she might have agreed to come back at a later date to wash dishes for a bit, but.
Regardless, he doesn't need to hear most of that, and Hamel murmurs an apology before carefully taking Marco's hand and guiding him through the restaurant. As they exit-- ]
Will this work?
[ She has fashioned the tablecloth into a fine, draping dress over her regular dress. And by "fine", I mean it's quite obviously a tablecloth, but she did her best. ]
I should be able to remedy it in the illusion, but I'm not sure how to resolve it now...
[ when she leaves his side, marco finds himself feeling more adrift than before. suddenly he's all too aware of the attention they've gathered, but while he isn't unused to the negativity being of such a low rank himself, he can sense the definitive shift in regard towards hamel, who surely ranks much higher.
he's tense, still, when she returns to his side. ]
You should go, Miss Hamel. I'll take care of things here.
[ there is no way he can afford all the ruined dishes, and now the pilfered tablecloth, but he will have to hope that some form of manual labor can even things out. that's nothing he's going to leave on hamel's shoulders, especially not on top of the stain on her reputation by simply being around her. ]
[ Calmly. But there's a firm sincerity to her voice. Because yes, some things have been broken and yes, she's wrapped in a tablecloth, but. ]
I've worked things out for now, but they'll want us to return for further discussion later on; tomorrow, if you don't have objections. And if you would prefer to part ways, I don't want to stop you from your decisions. However...
... I'd still like to spend this time with you. Is that... a problem?
[ She can gracefully withdraw if it is, but she's already growing fond of Marco's company. There are ways around his current "affliction", after all, but the important thing here is his comfort. Whether he accepts her remaining by his side for now or doubles down on his efforts to shoo her away is up to him. ]
[ he isn't expecting her to wish for more. frankly, the whole day was a disaster from start to seemingly finish, and he had assumed she would have been glad for the chance to step away. whatever is afflicting him right now — surely another one of the house's many, many tricks — there is no telling how it might continue to manifest. right now it seems determined to simply be a cause of embarrassment for him, but if it turns out to be anything like the zombies... ]
...No. [ he should let the day end, just like this. squirrel himself away to his room where he won't be a bother to anyone else, at least until his vision fixes itself. ] It's not a problem at all.
[ and yet he feels — strangely humbled by the experience, though he can't even begin to fathom why. she has gone out of her way to help him when she needn't, and here she is making a timid request from him. how could he possibly say no? so instead he simply inclines forward in a meek little bow, arms rigid at his sides. ]
I'll be here tomorrow, without issue. Whenever they [ you ] need me.
And for right now... [ he straightens, his glance towards her almost shy. ] I believe I owe you a dance.
[ So she isn't infringing. It's going to take a while before she can feel fully confident that she wouldn't be, truly, and it occurs to her that Marco may be the kind of person who might not be able to state his true feelings if he thought it might hurt her own, but he doesn't seem to be reluctant about it.
Entirely reluctant, anyway.
The look she returns him is just as "almost shy", with a tinge of relief. ]
I believe I owe you an experience. [ Likely in a way he hasn't danced before, if he's danced at all. ]
But we'll need to find a room first. [ And then maybe she can shed the tablecloth and see what she can do to alter his vision towards something a little more preferable for him. Clearly, seeing her naked is horrifying. ]
[ "i believe i owe you an experience" is a heck of a thing to promise in sex resort, so it's a good thing marco and hamel have quietly decided never to speak of such things to each other. ]
I'm sure we can find one if we worked together.
[ no, it actually makes no sense that two would be better than one in this case, because it's not as if they plan to split up to cover more ground or anything. but it seemed like the kind of reassuring thing to say, right after you've made a spectacle of your date while claiming to have seen her in nothing but her dignity. whatever left of it remains, anyway.
but! he will go on and lead the way out, careful to make sure she is always at his side. once out of the restaurant, he lets out a little sigh, shoulders slumping. ]
What a mess... [ he rubs at his eyes a little, as if that enough will solve his vision problems. ] Your patience knows no bounds, Miss Hamel.
[ Hamel and Marco are going to have sex one day while doing their best not to talk about it and it's going to be incredibly magical, probably. For us, the players.
But she frowns sympathetically as she watches him, hesitating for a moment before carefully raising a hand to press her palm against his back. Solidarity. ]
This wasn't your fault. I think if something similar had happened to me, you would have done much the same.
[ Her frown flattens a bit, into a straighter line. ]
I don't really consider you to be someone I have to tap into my patience for, Marco. You are trying to help me, even as you panicked.
[ the touch startles him, his hand dropping back down to his side. his eyes snag on the unhappy line of her lips, and he realizes with a pang what he's doing. constance would get on his case about it all the time. get your head out of your ass, adriano. understand the world doesn't revolve around your pity party.
he draws in a deep breath. smothers it in the same second. he can't help the fresh stab of guilt over thinking about connie while he's technically on a date with someone else, but that's been his entire experience here, hasn't it? ]
It seems to have subsided, at least. Whatever it is.
[ still. despite all her understanding, he'll always feel bad for infringing on her privacy like that. willingly or not! ]
—Those double doors look promising. [ he gestures with his chin a little further down the hall. ] Right there. Should we take a look?
[ Hamel nods her acquiescence and they'll proceed down the hall until they reach those mysterious double doors. They look a lot heavier than they feel, moving forward beneath her palm when she tests the seam between them, and it gives way into...
Well, what could be some kind of room for parties? There's an empty stage in the corner and the floor looks well-kept, but there aren't any other indicators as to what manner of room this is supposed to be. ]
I think this... could work? [ She glances over at Marco, inquisitively, then glances down at herself. ]
[ marco doesn't know jack shit about dancing, but what he sees upon entering is a wide, open space. certainly, if dancing were to happen anywhere, it would be there? but it's not as if he knows what kind of dancing hamel does (there had been, of course, that brief moment in their first meeting he had unfairly assumed she was an exotic dancer) so when she turns to him for his opinion, he can do little else but give her a mildly wide-eyed and helpless sort of look. the shrug is all but confirmation of how out of his depth he is, but as for the tablecloth... well. he can give a more definitive answer with that, at least. ]
Yes, I... think it should be fine.
[ he Does Not Think It'll Be Fine, actually, but he doesn't want the cloth to be cumbersome to her movements. he resolves in that moment to simply suck it up if it happens again — or just keep looking to her face, honestly. it feels a little dishonest, but he can cross that bridge when he gets there.
[ Give Hamel a moment to unknot the tablecloth and place it on the stage, higher up so neither of them slips on it. Because that would be a bit of a mood-killer if they go toppling during this. With that accomplished, she turns back to him, and the quiet, shy demeanor she tends to wrap herself up in similarly falls away.
Well, she's still quiet, but there's a decisiveness in the way she faces Marco, reaching for his hand to clasp and directing his other arm to have that one rest at her waist. It could also rest at her back, but this gives them at least a little space, in the event he needs it. Her free hand moves to his shoulder. ]
I'll lead. For a step I move forward, you'll move back. My right will be your left. And so on. I promise, it's rather simple.
[ it's a rock and a hard place, isn't it? opt for the hand on the back, you risk being Too Close. settle for the hand on the waist, and you're left to sit with the fact your hand can almost entirely span the width of her waist from thumb to pinky.
he forces himself to focus on her steady voice, on this new veil of confidence rippling over her like lace. ]
[ Hamel offers him a smile, taps her foot lightly against the floor--
And it's as though the room itself has vanished. The air is no longer still, a warm breeze flowing between them. The sky (and there is a sky, most suddenly) is awash with oranges, pinks, and yellows, fading slowly into a deeper purple and a softer blue towards the horizon. That warmth feels as though it could very easily seep into one's skin, and more strangely (though this is probably all a bit unusual), there's music out of nowhere.
But Hamel squeezes Marco's hand and she's off and swooping into the dance, guiding him into a lively series of movements. It might have been better to start with something slower, but she's leading; she won't let him stumble.
This is what her impression of him translates to. This warm, comforting scene that inspires enough energy to step lightly--this feels like Marco to her. ]
[ of all the pace they might have taken, a fast, upbeat one was not one marco would have even considered to be in the top three. he's surprised by it, certainly — almost as surprised as he was by the illusions themselves, the way it wafts over him and blends in with the air around them so seamlessly. to marco, they are outside, in some wonderful field of colors that stretches on beyond what the eye can see. beneath their feet he doesn't hear the hollow sounds of a near-empty ballroom, ears too filled by the music seeming to come from everywhere.
honestly, it's a lot for the mind to even comprehend. and so, perhaps wisely, he decides not to think at all.
(perhaps if he had, he might have realized how the instinctive way his body responds to the push and pull of her leading is not unlike the way hunters were taught to monitor and predict their enemies' movements. that he can follow along almost seamlessly because his body has only ever known that quick reactions guaranteed survival. no, it's best he doesn't stop to consider that at all.)
before he knows it, his lips have spread into a wide smile. it's a dizzying thing, dancing like this, but he tethers himself to the fierce light in her eyes and the assured way she holds onto him, guiding him along. if he's breathless at all, it's not out of exertion, but from sheer surprise at how delightful dancing can be. ]
[ It's really all she could hope for. Marco's initial surprise she'd expected, but he doesn't seem to be opposed to it, and she thinks maybe, what she can offer is a bit of a reprieve from their reality. Contained to a dance, yes, which means it's momentary.
But his smile is a warm, delighted thing and she's relieved at the sight of it. He doesn't require much guiding, as she'd thought; whatever life experiences he's had, they've molded him into someone who can follow her movements closely.
It's... fun, Hamel realizes, that same warmth brightening her smile as she meets his eyes, spinning them both. It really is a different kind of experience, isn't it? Dancing with a partner. ]
right up until that moment she smiles at him, gives him that gentle encouragement. like a switch his brain turns itself off, and it's as if his mind kicks into overdrive to try and make up for those few brief minutes it'd been off. he's all too aware, then, where his hands are, what his feet are doing, the spins and the twirls and the beat thumping away in his head—
he missteps. or rather, he steps on her, and no matter how much of a professional she is there's just no easy recovery when a 200+ pound man smashes your toes with his big clumsy feet. he all but collides against her a second later, but fortunately manages to side-step enough that he doesn't crush even more of her toes.
[ Yeah, sadly even Hamel cannot recover gracefully from getting her toes stepped on. She's already stepping with a little bit of a hop (the nicest way to not just mention how much that hurts in the moment) to avoid further mishap, coming to a stop.
Thankfully for the moment, the illusion remains, though the music has softened in volume. ]
It's all right. [ Resettling on both feet, a little gingerly. ] I should be the one apologizing... I must have startled you.
[ He'd probably been focused on any other thing; she can't possibly fault him for her words jarring him out of it. ]
[ Well. Maybe it's a little bruised, she amends (to herself), after testing the weight. The illusions shimmer briefly around them and then they're back in the ballroom, near that low stage. That's probably good enough, she thinks, nodding towards that. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thank,
[ it should be noted there had been a definitive pause before answering. but that at least implies he'd really thought it through, as opposed to just saying what he thinks she wants. he doesn't know much of illusions (that aren't prompted by grief, or stress, or both) but he supposes if he's to be submitted to one, he can find no better person to guide him along than hamel herself.
she didn't seem particularly cruel, after all.
they lapse into an easy and expected lull when the food arrives. perhaps just as expectedly, the salads weren't too filling at all, and so a shared pasta plate is eventually ordered to fill in the gap. overall, the dinner is a cozy, pleasant thing, though perhaps it is far more casual than the house expects from a date...
because no sooner than marco had stood beside hamel's chair to pull it back for her as she stands, does the lovely dress she wears suddenly flicker out of existence, and he's left staring down at what is certainly not meant for public attention. ]
M-Miss Hamel—!
[ after a brief shock he reacts impulsively, grabbing at the long tablecloth just within reach to draw it over her, covering her from the neck down. it's... quite the commotion, and all their finished plates and glasses go clattering to the floor, some breaking in the process. ]
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[ is all Hamel can get out, a bit blankly, when Marco suddenly panics and whips the tablecloth from its god-given place on the table to draw it over her instead. And it's perhaps very clear that she has no idea why he decided to do that, because as far as she's concerned, her dress has never left her body (yet).
The shattering of a couple of the glasses startles her more, backing up a little against Marco in her shock (though she's at least now got a tablecloth over her, saving his eyes apparently). ]
Marco?? Did--something happen?
[ Well, now everyone, diners and waitstaff are staring at the both of them. ]
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he is very keenly aware of a heat crawling up the back of his neck, curling around his ears. ]
I'm — not sure.
[ his voice is quiet, hushed. though he knows they've already got the entire restaurant's attention, he doesn't dare raise his next words louder than a whisper, muttered close to her ear. ]
I thought... no, I'm certain... you were unclothed. Just now.
[ he could, of course, check. but he's definitely not going to?! ]
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And her dress is still there. Where it's been. She'd know if it suddenly vanished, wouldn't she? Was she too deeply distracted to have noticed? More importantly, is he okay?
Tentatively, just as quiet, even though everyone is still staring at them-- ]
I... seem to be dressed. Does it look differently to you?
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marco shouldn't have.
standing rigid, he whips his head back towards a random spot in the restaurant — some hanging lantern or windchime or some other kind of decoration he honestly couldn't tell you right now it could be a hanging ballsack for all that he's actually paying attention— ]
Yes.
[ he does not, fortunately, choke on his words. ]
I'm sorry.
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Please keep your eyes closed.
[ Ideally, he'll do this. As there's the shuffling and the sound of things being shifted and Hamel stepping away to very quietly murmur to the closest server. It may cost... a few more chips than the voucher, because the voucher did not know how to cover broken tableware and someone pilfering a tablecloth, and maybe she might have agreed to come back at a later date to wash dishes for a bit, but.
Regardless, he doesn't need to hear most of that, and Hamel murmurs an apology before carefully taking Marco's hand and guiding him through the restaurant. As they exit-- ]
Will this work?
[ She has fashioned the tablecloth into a fine, draping dress over her regular dress. And by "fine", I mean it's quite obviously a tablecloth, but she did her best. ]
I should be able to remedy it in the illusion, but I'm not sure how to resolve it now...
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he's tense, still, when she returns to his side. ]
You should go, Miss Hamel. I'll take care of things here.
[ there is no way he can afford all the ruined dishes, and now the pilfered tablecloth, but he will have to hope that some form of manual labor can even things out. that's nothing he's going to leave on hamel's shoulders, especially not on top of the stain on her reputation by simply being around her. ]
I'm sorry I've ruined our date.
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[ Calmly. But there's a firm sincerity to her voice. Because yes, some things have been broken and yes, she's wrapped in a tablecloth, but. ]
I've worked things out for now, but they'll want us to return for further discussion later on; tomorrow, if you don't have objections. And if you would prefer to part ways, I don't want to stop you from your decisions. However...
... I'd still like to spend this time with you. Is that... a problem?
[ She can gracefully withdraw if it is, but she's already growing fond of Marco's company. There are ways around his current "affliction", after all, but the important thing here is his comfort. Whether he accepts her remaining by his side for now or doubles down on his efforts to shoo her away is up to him. ]
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...No. [ he should let the day end, just like this. squirrel himself away to his room where he won't be a bother to anyone else, at least until his vision fixes itself. ] It's not a problem at all.
[ and yet he feels — strangely humbled by the experience, though he can't even begin to fathom why. she has gone out of her way to help him when she needn't, and here she is making a timid request from him. how could he possibly say no? so instead he simply inclines forward in a meek little bow, arms rigid at his sides. ]
I'll be here tomorrow, without issue. Whenever they [ you ] need me.
And for right now... [ he straightens, his glance towards her almost shy. ] I believe I owe you a dance.
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Entirely reluctant, anyway.
The look she returns him is just as "almost shy", with a tinge of relief. ]
I believe I owe you an experience. [ Likely in a way he hasn't danced before, if he's danced at all. ]
But we'll need to find a room first. [ And then maybe she can shed the tablecloth and see what she can do to alter his vision towards something a little more preferable for him. Clearly, seeing her naked is horrifying. ]
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I'm sure we can find one if we worked together.
[ no, it actually makes no sense that two would be better than one in this case, because it's not as if they plan to split up to cover more ground or anything. but it seemed like the kind of reassuring thing to say, right after you've made a spectacle of your date while claiming to have seen her in nothing but her dignity. whatever left of it remains, anyway.
but! he will go on and lead the way out, careful to make sure she is always at his side. once out of the restaurant, he lets out a little sigh, shoulders slumping. ]
What a mess... [ he rubs at his eyes a little, as if that enough will solve his vision problems. ] Your patience knows no bounds, Miss Hamel.
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But she frowns sympathetically as she watches him, hesitating for a moment before carefully raising a hand to press her palm against his back. Solidarity. ]
This wasn't your fault. I think if something similar had happened to me, you would have done much the same.
[ Her frown flattens a bit, into a straighter line. ]
I don't really consider you to be someone I have to tap into my patience for, Marco. You are trying to help me, even as you panicked.
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he draws in a deep breath. smothers it in the same second. he can't help the fresh stab of guilt over thinking about connie while he's technically on a date with someone else, but that's been his entire experience here, hasn't it? ]
It seems to have subsided, at least. Whatever it is.
[ still. despite all her understanding, he'll always feel bad for infringing on her privacy like that. willingly or not! ]
—Those double doors look promising. [ he gestures with his chin a little further down the hall. ] Right there. Should we take a look?
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Well, what could be some kind of room for parties? There's an empty stage in the corner and the floor looks well-kept, but there aren't any other indicators as to what manner of room this is supposed to be. ]
I think this... could work? [ She glances over at Marco, inquisitively, then glances down at herself. ]
... Is it all right to remove this?
[ He did say it subsided, right? ]
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Yes, I... think it should be fine.
[ he Does Not Think It'll Be Fine, actually, but he doesn't want the cloth to be cumbersome to her movements. he resolves in that moment to simply suck it up if it happens again — or just keep looking to her face, honestly. it feels a little dishonest, but he can cross that bridge when he gets there.
he stands 🧍♂️ waiting. ]
What should I do...?
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Well, she's still quiet, but there's a decisiveness in the way she faces Marco, reaching for his hand to clasp and directing his other arm to have that one rest at her waist. It could also rest at her back, but this gives them at least a little space, in the event he needs it. Her free hand moves to his shoulder. ]
I'll lead. For a step I move forward, you'll move back. My right will be your left. And so on. I promise, it's rather simple.
[ Her eyes meet his, searching. ]
Are you ready?
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he forces himself to focus on her steady voice, on this new veil of confidence rippling over her like lace. ]
As I'll ever be, I think.
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And it's as though the room itself has vanished. The air is no longer still, a warm breeze flowing between them. The sky (and there is a sky, most suddenly) is awash with oranges, pinks, and yellows, fading slowly into a deeper purple and a softer blue towards the horizon. That warmth feels as though it could very easily seep into one's skin, and more strangely (though this is probably all a bit unusual), there's music out of nowhere.
But Hamel squeezes Marco's hand and she's off and swooping into the dance, guiding him into a lively series of movements. It might have been better to start with something slower, but she's leading; she won't let him stumble.
This is what her impression of him translates to. This warm, comforting scene that inspires enough energy to step lightly--this feels like Marco to her. ]
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honestly, it's a lot for the mind to even comprehend. and so, perhaps wisely, he decides not to think at all.
(perhaps if he had, he might have realized how the instinctive way his body responds to the push and pull of her leading is not unlike the way hunters were taught to monitor and predict their enemies' movements. that he can follow along almost seamlessly because his body has only ever known that quick reactions guaranteed survival. no, it's best he doesn't stop to consider that at all.)
before he knows it, his lips have spread into a wide smile. it's a dizzying thing, dancing like this, but he tethers himself to the fierce light in her eyes and the assured way she holds onto him, guiding him along. if he's breathless at all, it's not out of exertion, but from sheer surprise at how delightful dancing can be. ]
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But his smile is a warm, delighted thing and she's relieved at the sight of it. He doesn't require much guiding, as she'd thought; whatever life experiences he's had, they've molded him into someone who can follow her movements closely.
It's... fun, Hamel realizes, that same warmth brightening her smile as she meets his eyes, spinning them both. It really is a different kind of experience, isn't it? Dancing with a partner. ]
See?
[ A gentle murmur. ]
You're doing just fine.
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he was doing just fine.
right up until that moment she smiles at him, gives him that gentle encouragement. like a switch his brain turns itself off, and it's as if his mind kicks into overdrive to try and make up for those few brief minutes it'd been off. he's all too aware, then, where his hands are, what his feet are doing, the spins and the twirls and the beat thumping away in his head—
he missteps. or rather, he steps on her, and no matter how much of a professional she is there's just no easy recovery when a 200+ pound man smashes your toes with his big clumsy feet. he all but collides against her a second later, but fortunately manages to side-step enough that he doesn't crush even more of her toes.
ah... and he'd been doing so well. ]
S-Sorry...
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Thankfully for the moment, the illusion remains, though the music has softened in volume. ]
It's all right. [ Resettling on both feet, a little gingerly. ] I should be the one apologizing... I must have startled you.
[ He'd probably been focused on any other thing; she can't possibly fault him for her words jarring him out of it. ]
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You were lovely and encouraging. I got too in my head about it, that's all.
[ she will soon find (or perhaps she's already there) that this is a very prominent flaw of his. ]
Do you want to sit? I can help you to a seat...
[ er, if he can even find one. ]
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[ Well. Maybe it's a little bruised, she amends (to herself), after testing the weight. The illusions shimmer briefly around them and then they're back in the ballroom, near that low stage. That's probably good enough, she thinks, nodding towards that. ]
... Would that work? The edge?
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How's this?
[ once she's sat down, he moves to stand before her, dropping down to a knee. he doesn't reach yet for her foot, but the intent is clear. ]
Should I take a look...?
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