So close together // Typhoon blind date - Vandal and Fischer

[rochelle]

[align=center][div style="borderwidth=0px; text-align: justify; width: 520px; padding-bottom: 17px; overflow: stretch; font-family: verdana;"]Her chin instantly lifts, swallowing her surprise as far down as she could to the dire wolf's outburst. Fischer merely stood, lurching but nearly still, watching the other with a gaze that could not focus on the other properly. "O-okay ..." Was the most she could say, turning around to look back at the assortment of food. Heat was splotching on to her cheeks, a feeling of embarrassment that she knew well, but somehow, now she felt it in a new way. No one had ... ever called her beautiful, and it took the heavy feeling away in her, it made her feel light. But almost too much, like she was floating and turning, and she felt almost nauseous.

But she did her best to sweep the feeling away, feeling like her grace was disturbed. That bothered her, the way that Vandal's compliment made her feel, but she didn't voice this, she just resumed her usual poise and carried on with a sense of balance. "Well, you have quite the sweet tooth, huh Vandal?" She says, doing her best to float back into the normalcy of the blind date, trying to find some center out of all of the chaos the two females were stretching out. This was too much, too much. Oh, but why did she care so much? Couldn't someone just compliment her and move on with their life? The attachment of sentiments to words would get her in trouble, far worse than any wound.

"Play the lottery, tonight, with the luck that we have." The wolf had returned back to her pillow, delicately placing down the other's brownie, and setting down her own water. "... Only if you promise me half of the winnings, of course ..." It was a coy thing to say. Drinking the water, she tried to think of it as a way to cleanse herself, to wash away the nerves she had. So she drank deeply, too deeply to even taste it, which would be quite a regrettable action. It was not water ... it was vodka. Fischer didn't choke on it, she kept herself still, setting down the drink calmly and, without looking at Vandal, stated thinly, "I ... that was not water. That was liquor."

And now she was in a weird place, weirder than before. She'd never been drunk before, feared it, felt that the liquid was some form of tainted water that she would never consumed. But now, it'd happened, and she didn't know how she felt. It hurt, why was something so clear and fluid be so sharp and jagged down the throat? "I am just going to say sorry now, for taking this night down an odd turn."