meet me in the blue bed -- p, luca

[Luca]

Luca noticed her extra set of eyes about half way through his sentence. He followed their movement with his own pupils, watching as they appeared to read something that he couldn't quite perceive. It was a little odd, but Luca had seen much stranger in terms of mutations, even on his own body. It did make him a little jealous though, seeing that she had two pairs of eyes while he quite often didn't have any. He returned the nod and waited for her to speak, a hint of hesitance still clinging to his aura. The reason for his meeker attitude was pretty simple, really. He was good at approaching others, but much worse at being approached. When he wasn't the one in control of the situation, it was fairly common for his true self to come to light. He was shy, bashful, and he hated himself for it. He would sell what little remained of his soul if he could appear aloof and levelheaded in all situations all the time. It was one of the many things that he had always envied his brother for.

His reasoning for calling her by the title of ma'am was a little more complicated. Luca was rude, even when he was caught off guard and his true self came to light. Unlike the other parts of his facade, his abrasiveness was one hundred percent real. However, all of this seemed to disappear in the face of more women who's aura he respected. Rosemary was his type, although perhaps 'type' was too broad a term. Technically everyone was Luca's type, she just happened to be the type that he respected, the type that reminded him of his childhood friend. If he couldn't have her around him, he would just gravitate towards any female who had a hint of her domineering aura.

He sat down and watched the movement of her satchel as she placed it on the ground, curiosity bubbling beneath his skin before she answered him. It appeared she just wanted to take a look at his wounds. He glanced and his cut legs and immediately a small wave of guilt washed over him. He didn't like that fact that clan supplies were being wasted on wounds that he got in the hedonistic pursuit of pleasure. A subtle heat bloomed beneath his fur and he shifted in his seat, trying to hide both the embarrassment and his guilt. "Ah, you can take a look at them if you want, but they really don't bother me that much," he attempted, suddenly avoiding eye contact. "Besides, I'll probably just get more anyway." He added that last part in a mumble, knowing that it was more likely to let Rosemary catch on, but also more likely to get her to leave his wounds alone.