sandandwater | Anticipation [RP thread for fey

It’s half past eight and Pippa’s going through the motions of opening Last Call for business. It’s a routine she can perform mostly by rote: sweep the floors, take the chairs down from the tables, wipe off the bar and the table tops, deal with petty cash for the register…let the band in the back door when they arrive. The band. Breaker Street. Rory.

.

She closes her eyes and forces herself to take a deep, calming breath. Normally, she loves Wednesdays. Loves being the only one here as they set up the stage with their instruments, tune up. She usually helps Morrie run the sound check. Chats with the band and gazes longingly at Ro whenever he’s not looking at her. But tonight—

The red haired woman has a feeling that tonight’s going to be

much

different. She hasn’t seen Ro since their phone call revelations and she’s counting on (hoping, really) him keeping his word about kissing her. She’s even gone so far as to dress a bit nicer this evening. A simple baby doll smock with capped sleeves and jeans. Her usual funky collection of jewelry. Heeled shoes that give her considerably more height, taking into account Rory’s tall, lanky frame.

She hears the solid cadence against the metal fire exit doors. That’d be Kreske, the drummer tatting out some ridiculous rhythm instead of just knocking.

Here goes nothing

…Pippa smooths a hand over her riot of curls and hurries across the bar to let them in. She tucks her blistered and bandaged hand behind her back as she uses her free arm to brace the door open. “Hey, guys…”

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Ah yes, as predicted, she thinks he's a lunatic. An overwhelming temptation washes over Rory at that moment: go ahead, pass it off as a joke, or a dare from a friend. Do anything but keep pushing toward the truth. He wants to. He can't.

"Pippa. Look at your hand." His voice, though still gentle, has turned firm and persuasive. "Could I have done that if what I've told you wasn't true?"

His thoughts are equal parts please believe me and please don't fear me. He wonders how much is showing through his eyes.

That he persists with this and clearly isn't making a joke or trying to be funny, Pippa gets to her feet and moves across the room. If she's going to have to ask him to leave, she prefers to do that from a distance.

She really doesn't want things to come to that...she's known him for so long and always thought of him as such a charmingly wonderful man. And he does have a point about her hand, even if everything else he is saying is sheer madness. From her place by the window, Pippa does as he asked, looks at her hand. She brushes her fingers across the healed palm, touch light enough to tickle at first and then more firmly as it's proven that the flesh is no longer tender.

"But..." She looks over at him, at the expression on his face and carefully chooses her next words. "Ro, I'm sorry but this really is insane. Do you really expect me to believe that you're a--what did you call yourself? I don't know what to think about this." She holds up her hand, "But I do know that I haven't believed in faerytales since I was a little girl. A very little girl."

Stinging disappointment combines with a leaden feeling in his gut when she moves away from him. So ironic that he goes so long hiding what he is, only to be disbelieved when he finally does tell the truth. But what else could he expect? What else can he do?

"A púca," he murmurs in response to her question. "A horse-fey. Irish, hence the accent." A wry humor overtakes him. "I suppose I could turn into a horse to convince you, but that would be rather hard on your flooring." Leaning forward, he braces one elbow on his knee and rests his forehead on the heel of his hand. "Or I could show you what my eyes really look like. Though how that's supposed to convince you when your hand didn't, I don't know ..."

Pippa does give him a bit of a wry smile when he remarks about his own accent. She enjoys his speaking voice quite a lot because of the lilt, always amused at the way it seems to go away when he sings.

Still rubbing at her hand, almost absently now, she takes a few steps closer to him, stopping at the mention of his eyes. (The nonsense about turning into a horse she opts to disregard for sanity's sake, some things are simply too ridiculous to consider.)

"Really look like? Ro...Ro, really, I'm just confused here. I am." She bites her bottom lip at she watches him sitting there, head in his hand and her puppy still draped across the toe of his shoe. He looks quite miserable, really and in turn this makes her feel sorry for him if nothing else.

Pippa moves closer and kneels between the sofa and the coffee table, taking the time to scoot Mr. Beaker out of the way before she places her hands on his knee. Her head tipped back so that she's looking up even as he's looking down, Pippa speaks just as quietly as he has been. "Ro...Rory, I can't explain what you did to my hand. I just can't. It's...surreal is the best word I can come up with and even if I could find a way, a sane way, to explain it...how in the world am I supposed to assume this means you're--an Irish horse fey?"

She's trying to speak to him calmly and without sounding as if she's speaking to a small, somewhat addle-patted child, but the note of amused humoring creeps into her words anyway.

"You're not," he sighed. "But I had to tell you, Pippa. I have to be honest with you, even if you won't believe me." The corners of his lips curl up a bit at her touch. Even if she's humoring him, it's still better than her standing stiff and wary across the room.

Time for step two. "Right. The eyes it is then," he murmurs, lightly stroking one of her hands. "Just ... try not to be frightened, okay?"

He blinks, and in between the lowering of his eyelids and the lifting of them, he drops the glamour that makes his eyes look human-normal. Deep, velvet brown animal eyes look into Pippa's blue.

"Well, I do appreciate honesty but--" She's still trying to humor him, at least until he blinks and Pippa finds herself looking up into impossibly big, brown eyes. Of course his eyes themselves aren't any larger, it's just that the irises...Pippa's not thinking of that, she's falling backwards to land flat on her ass out of total shock.

"Oh, my God!" And there's the yelp and hand flying up to cover her mouth. Her reaction also sets off the dog, Mr. Beaker letting out a series of sharp barks as he jumps around his owner.

Ignoring the dog's barks, Pippa pulls Mr. Beaker to her chest, hugging the little animal protectively (or maybe using him as a shield) as she continues to gape at Rory. She stares eyes wide, her mouth forming a perfect little 'o' and she's trying not to tremble. If she could actually get her mind to focus on anything other than the fact that there is a very not normal man in her apartment, odds are Pippa would be scrambling back and away from him again.

As it is, she's just going to sit there and be stunned. A lot.

Anticipation [RP thread for fey_fire]

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