Post by L△LIA on Feb 4, 2017 16:43:59 GMT -5
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Come out, come out
gold, nope
gold, nope
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"...Miss Antoinette?" Lounging on the floor casually rubbing the belly of a tiger more than twice her size, she still giggles after being called Miss. Yes, such a lady. The grown man standing in the doorway is much closer to Arbor's beefcake-status size, but he flinches at the sound of her laugh. "Oh, um, yes of course, so terribly sorry, I meant Gamemaker Antoinette." Being called that still brings the most incredible grin to her face. In that moment her lips unravel into the wildest thing in the room, although most people would swear she already was... certainly anyone who knows Arbor. "The uniforms, Mi-" There are so very many teeth in this room. "Gamemaker."
Clapping a few beats in shameless glee, Cricket rolls over onto her own back and Arbor paws at her belly as if to ask why she stopped petting his. Doesn't she know it's not her turn yet? He's certain he's entitled to at least five more minutes. "Oh, just take whatever!" She exclaims, gesturing vaguely at the racks on racks (on racks on racks...) of quote-unquote clothing cluttering her dressing room. Even by Capitolite standards it seems an excessive quantity for a woman infamous for wearing so. Very. Little.
Wandering eyes snap to attention as the man blushes and stammers nonsensically. When Cricket won the Sixty-Third Games she was a girl who already looked dangerously like a woman, but now she is a pornographer's dream come alive. Every curve of her seems to scream scandal, but the childish glitter in her eyes hasn't matured with the rest of her. If this man were looking at her face instead of her chest, he might see that and realize he's being teased — just in a different way. "B-bu-but, Mi-"
"Miss Gamemaker," she corrects as he begins wringing his hands, the gravel-hewn purr of her voice seeming to mock his trembling. "If it's not enough then I'm certain Gamemaker Levelwright and Justice have a few things laying around that they wouldn't mind parting with." Keening for attention, Arbor glares at the intruder distracting Cricket from attending to more important business. (Bellyyyyy rubsssss~) Unbridled fear twitches through the man who came here hoping for simple words, but leaving with a panicked armload of bedazzled lingerie, chainmail evening wear, and everything that has ever been gaudy, glittering, or gorgeous in the most unexpectedly bizarre ways. Perfect.
Clapping a few beats in shameless glee, Cricket rolls over onto her own back and Arbor paws at her belly as if to ask why she stopped petting his. Doesn't she know it's not her turn yet? He's certain he's entitled to at least five more minutes. "Oh, just take whatever!" She exclaims, gesturing vaguely at the racks on racks (on racks on racks...) of quote-unquote clothing cluttering her dressing room. Even by Capitolite standards it seems an excessive quantity for a woman infamous for wearing so. Very. Little.
Wandering eyes snap to attention as the man blushes and stammers nonsensically. When Cricket won the Sixty-Third Games she was a girl who already looked dangerously like a woman, but now she is a pornographer's dream come alive. Every curve of her seems to scream scandal, but the childish glitter in her eyes hasn't matured with the rest of her. If this man were looking at her face instead of her chest, he might see that and realize he's being teased — just in a different way. "B-bu-but, Mi-"
"Miss Gamemaker," she corrects as he begins wringing his hands, the gravel-hewn purr of her voice seeming to mock his trembling. "If it's not enough then I'm certain Gamemaker Levelwright and Justice have a few things laying around that they wouldn't mind parting with." Keening for attention, Arbor glares at the intruder distracting Cricket from attending to more important business. (Bellyyyyy rubsssss~) Unbridled fear twitches through the man who came here hoping for simple words, but leaving with a panicked armload of bedazzled lingerie, chainmail evening wear, and everything that has ever been gaudy, glittering, or gorgeous in the most unexpectedly bizarre ways. Perfect.
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