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Post by Carolyn Blake on Apr 3, 2012 11:37:33 GMT -5
Carolyn takes another bite of her brunch. Her expression is very neutral as he talks about the tracer. She was not aware of that. That is the most extreme tracer setup Carolyn has heard of. It makes her... angry.
She allows Arlen to touch her, but she can't hide the way she stiffens. She doesn't distrust him. Arlen is too tightly bound to hurt her. But she distrusts casual touch in general.
"Whatever you think is best," she says.
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Post by SceneMod on Apr 3, 2012 11:44:38 GMT -5
"I probably shouldn't have told you that," Arlen says neutrally, except he did, quite deliberately.
He tries to move a lock of hair closer to one of her eyes and says, chewing his lower lip, "Blonde is off the table. Brown would stand out the least. I sort of want to go red, though. You have some very pink hues to your skin..."
Sometimes, Arlen wants to say 'almost metallic', but then he catches himself and wonders what he was thinking. He blames his anti-depressants. He blames a lot on them.
"Red hair, fair white skin, and blue eyes. A regular American flag."
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Post by Carolyn Blake on Apr 3, 2012 11:53:38 GMT -5
Carolyn is ever so still has Arlen manipulates her hair. Her expression is still neutral, but the fingers of the hand not holding her fork flex. If she does what he says, she will have to endure a lot of touching. She's used to be manhandled by doctors and scientists and other people at Control, but this is... different.
"Feh!" she says at the flag comparison, jerking away from him finally, "Next you'll be comparing me to one of those spandex-wearing comics characters."
She reaches over, grabs her water glass, and takes a sip. "I know what I am. You don't have to keep reenforcing the fact."
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Post by SceneMod on Apr 3, 2012 12:00:51 GMT -5
"We'll have to go either earth tones or jewel tones for clothing, but I want to say jewel tones, almost like... the skin of an expensive automobile under sunlight," Arlen murmurs.
If Carolyn pokes him about that non sequitur, he is honestly not going to have any idea where he was going with that.
Arlen leans back into his seat when she pulls away, and he picks up a devilled egg. He can smell the smoked Spanish paprika from here. "You should be pleased. I won't be able to put you in pinks or whites. Anyway, those comic book characters... has it ever occurred to you that people like us tend to be the villains in those sorts of comics? There's a reason we didn't read comics as children."
Many reasons.
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Post by Carolyn Blake on Apr 3, 2012 12:17:55 GMT -5
Carolyn won't question Arlen's statement because it makes perfect sense to her. Now, if someone asked her why it made perfect sense, she'd be clueless.
She barks a laugh. "There's a reason we weren't allowed a great many things as children Arlen. Too much imagination is a bad thing to allow your weapons."
Shaking out her hair, almost as if she's shaking away his touch, she adds, "We aren't villains. We take down villains."
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Post by SceneMod on Apr 3, 2012 12:30:46 GMT -5
Arlen eats his deviled egg. It is fantastic. He says quietly, "Yes, of course, and when they send you to kill me, it will be because I have broken some regulation, thus making me a villain. Let's not talk about this. Let me just have a brunch spent with my sister, planning her shopping trip and makeover."
She's not really his sister, of course. Arlen's just playing at the family life he will never have.
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Post by Carolyn Blake on Apr 3, 2012 22:45:22 GMT -5
Carolyn is cutting off a section of her pain perdu when Arlen so very easily slips the metaphorical knife between her ribs. She fixes him with a cool look for several moments she pops the bit of syrup-drenched bread into her mouth. Several more seconds go by before she speaks.
"Arlen, you are a manipulative bastard," she says without animosity, "Don't think I don't see what you're doing there."
What would she do if she were told to erase Arlen, or any of her team for that matter? The correct answer is what's she's told. The right answer is more complicated.
Her lips quirk up again in that ghost of a smile, "So what does my dear brother have planned for me today?"
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Post by SceneMod on Apr 4, 2012 20:48:40 GMT -5
Does she understand why he is doing this now? That is the more important element.
"You hate surprises, don't you? So let me explain this in just the most excruciating detail..."
OOC: Timeskip to actually doing something?
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Post by Carolyn Blake on Apr 4, 2012 22:46:00 GMT -5
Later, in the dressing room of a very exclusive boutique...
Carolyn is standing entirely too stiffly on a raised platform, clad only in undergaments. Her deer-headlights expression is captured and reflected back at her via a half moon of mirrors. She is surrounded by a veritable swarm (really just three) of people taking measurements and making notes.
Arlen is impeccably dressed, perfectly at ease, and sitting on a loveseat just out of the way. As a helper holds up fabrics and clothing to Carolyn's body, he either approves the items or not.
Carolyn imagines her brother is enjoying this power shift a bit too much.
OOC: posing w/ permission
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Post by SceneMod on Apr 4, 2012 22:55:34 GMT -5
Of course Arlen is enjoying this. He comes from a life wherein he has a set role that he cannot rise above no matter how hard he tries, where power is a desirable thing but is solely exercised upon him, never by him. A little taste of control is intoxicating.
At least now he has something to spend his gambling winnings on! That'll be fun to explain to Control. 'Gambled excessively, won a lot of money; spent it on pretty dresses for my commanding officer, which she will wear all of once, unhappily'.
"Pink?" he all but snarls, incredulous and imperious, "Why do you keep insisting with the pink? Look at her. Look at her! She'll be completely washed out in pink. Get that out of my sight." He waves a hand dismissively in one efficient flick of his wrist.
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Post by Carolyn Blake on Apr 5, 2012 21:31:15 GMT -5
For all that she looks dumbfounded by the events unfolding around her, Carolyn manages to still look calm. As the directing personnel apologize to Arlen for the profusion of pink, "I'm sorry sir, but we keep being drawn to pinks and whites for her for some reason," Carolyn reaches up and brushes her fashionably long bangs away from her eyes. Bangs. She's never had bangs. She runs her fingers through her hair, still startled by how abruptly she comes to the end of the strands. She's never had hair this short before either, or this color (oh how the colorist had squeed over her virgin hair). It was so strange to look into the mirror and see a red-head with a choppy asymmetrical bob.
She points at a collection of fabrics that is comprised of darker greens and olives, more earth tone than jewel tones. In those she could disappear, right?
"What about those, Abbadon?"
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Post by SceneMod on Apr 5, 2012 21:57:11 GMT -5
"Not lush enough," 'Abaddon Page', servant of destruction, says witheringly. Also, he is a meanie and wishes to deny Carolyn her camouflage. Seeing Carolyn off balance is strange and almost enchanting. He wonders how far he can push her before she judo flips him off the ledge and laughs while he falls.
He adds, the corners of his mouth quirking with amusement, "You wouldn't want to look like a soldier, would you? You know the Lord doesn't approve of violence."
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Post by Carolyn Blake on Apr 5, 2012 22:17:53 GMT -5
Carolyn shoots Arlen a look that manages to be both affronted and scathing all at once.
"Feh."
She crosses her arms over her chest and scowls. "This is boring and this trip is not supposed to be boring. I have things to do."
"Just pick something. That's what you're here for."
Arlen wanted her to be a rude, boor of a rich American, right? Now if she could just get that inherent note of command out of her voice....
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Post by SceneMod on Apr 5, 2012 22:39:59 GMT -5
Arlen scowls over another outfit and snaps, "That much skin? She'd look like a harlot." Then he modulates his voice to be softer and soothing, "You know that you want to look special for your sweetheart, sister. I know this is tough. Just keep your chin up, and for the sake of little fluffy kittens, stop standing like you expect a firing squad."
OOC: Skip to something else or more of this?
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Post by Carolyn Blake on Apr 5, 2012 23:03:36 GMT -5
Some time later, Carolyn is draped in an expertly cut sapphire blue modern kaftan with silver detailing. The sandals are silver studded with blue Swarovski crystals, and are flats. Several pairs of heels are being delivered along with the rest of her clothes to the suite adjoining Arlen's, and she is not happy about them. As they enter the next boutique, Carolyn is muttering under her breath about how much her dress will inhibit movement and how easily it will catch on things. She's so busy doing so, she doesn't at first notice what type of store Alren has steered her into. A dazzling array of sparkles catch her eye and she blinks. Slowly she turns her head to regard her companion. " Brother, surely you don't think I need to be this ostentatious?" OOC: Her dress, for the interested. Though in blue, of course.
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