[five or six minutes go by without anything else, then bob's cabin window is abruptly flung open and yeko's head pops in, blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. worker's boots stick out from under her skirt when she slings her leg over the sill, stockings covering the skin beneath. she's layered herself in clothing as stylishly as she can; a cardigan over silk over lace, a knit scarf left untied, a crystal necklace hanging low in her cleavage fashioned from wire and string.]
Hi! [the cool air bites her cheeks, leaving her look especially flushed and cheerful.] You want to know how I play the game?
[doesn't matter where he is or if he answers, there's a grace in her sudden intrusion, even as she moves to sit on the center of his bed.]
You should have asked me sooner. Oh well, at least you're asking. Let's play. Here, come sit in front of me. I will explain while we play a different game. It's called Red Hands. Are you familiar?
[ where yeko remains lively, bob has grown smaller, slacker, quieter. already the kind of guy who hangs back and observes, more lost than ever with his loved ones in jeopardy (and adrian gone).
when yeko sits, bob scoots up the bed, somewhere between nervous and polite. yeko is someone he likes, certainly, but he doesn’t trust her — especially after embry revealed she was buying votes. the whole trial stuff is bullshit though, so he means it, when he says he’s withholding judgment. ]
I don’t think so.
[ but he edges back towards her, adjusting to sit cross-legged. his dark blue eyes flit from her flushed cheeks to her small hands. ]
[something like sympathy pangs inside of her, a split-second of emotion washing over her features, but not when she reaches for his hands to hold them out in front of him, palms up. she'll go easy on him for the first round.
her own hands over above his own. she's a ball of playful energy, coy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and hips wriggling.]
Okay– you try and hit my hand before I pull away. If you miss, it's my turn. Go on, try and slap me.
[this might be her own way of trying to take him away from the grief, distracting with something as simple as the competitive stinging pain of a smack meant to be avoided. she's watching him carefully, maroon eyes studying his features. he's sad here, terribly so. her smile wavers then, but she waits patiently for his next move and continues on her original path of explaining the real game they've been forced into.]
I'm playing how the Shepherd doesn't want me to play. I have a few weaknesses, [his arm muscles twitch and she pulls a hand away too quickly, hesitant on inching it back over his.] ah, you almost got me! One of them is my emotions. I get very angry, but I think my accusation was deserved. We have a choice to use the game how we want, and I'm doing that. If we combined our votes for the Shepherd, I think we would have a very different outcome, don't you?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
i’m not trying to do the receipts thing
[ that’s hot girl shit. ]
i’m just trying to figure out this fucked up game
and how people are playing it
🎬
[five or six minutes go by without anything else, then bob's cabin window is abruptly flung open and yeko's head pops in, blonde hair cascading over her shoulders. worker's boots stick out from under her skirt when she slings her leg over the sill, stockings covering the skin beneath. she's layered herself in clothing as stylishly as she can; a cardigan over silk over lace, a knit scarf left untied, a crystal necklace hanging low in her cleavage fashioned from wire and string.]
Hi! [the cool air bites her cheeks, leaving her look especially flushed and cheerful.] You want to know how I play the game?
[doesn't matter where he is or if he answers, there's a grace in her sudden intrusion, even as she moves to sit on the center of his bed.]
You should have asked me sooner. Oh well, at least you're asking. Let's play. Here, come sit in front of me. I will explain while we play a different game. It's called Red Hands. Are you familiar?
no subject
when yeko sits, bob scoots up the bed, somewhere between nervous and polite. yeko is someone he likes, certainly, but he doesn’t trust her — especially after embry revealed she was buying votes. the whole trial stuff is bullshit though, so he means it, when he says he’s withholding judgment. ]
I don’t think so.
[ but he edges back towards her, adjusting to sit cross-legged. his dark blue eyes flit from her flushed cheeks to her small hands. ]
Explain it to me?
no subject
her own hands over above his own. she's a ball of playful energy, coy smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and hips wriggling.]
Okay– you try and hit my hand before I pull away. If you miss, it's my turn. Go on, try and slap me.
[this might be her own way of trying to take him away from the grief, distracting with something as simple as the competitive stinging pain of a smack meant to be avoided. she's watching him carefully, maroon eyes studying his features. he's sad here, terribly so. her smile wavers then, but she waits patiently for his next move and continues on her original path of explaining the real game they've been forced into.]
I'm playing how the Shepherd doesn't want me to play. I have a few weaknesses, [his arm muscles twitch and she pulls a hand away too quickly, hesitant on inching it back over his.] ah, you almost got me! One of them is my emotions. I get very angry, but I think my accusation was deserved. We have a choice to use the game how we want, and I'm doing that. If we combined our votes for the Shepherd, I think we would have a very different outcome, don't you?