Fix, Mr. Fixer, Mr. Fix
He/Him
32
December 17
Mahogany Town
Demisexual
Fixer
Grunt
TAG WITH @thefixer
The Fixer
So Blossoms the Snapdragon [SD]
POSTED ON Feb 23, 2022 21:04:49 GMT
[nospaces] [attr="class","rigid"] [attr="class","rigidw"] Relaxing as best he could, given the criminally undersized chairs he had resigned himself to suffering through for the duration of the event, the Fixer let his gaze rove over the milling sea of humanity. People were so interesting, with their countless differences, small and drastic, that set them apart. Fashion sense, favoured colours, how they held themselves, how they walked, whether they looked people in the eye when they spoke, if they shrank in on themselves to seem small in a crowd or stood tall - Endless distinctions, and yet, so very much the same in all the ways that mattered. [break] [break] One figure in particular drew his notice - Hard not to notice her, really, in that dress, with hair that shone like burnished sunlight, but that wasn't what caught his attention. There were beautiful people aplenty here. No, what piqued his curiosity was the manner in which she moved, like an empress gracefully striding forth to order the execution of a hated enemy. The crowd, which she either did not notice or did not deign to show she noticed, parted about her like waves about a proud and terrible warship, the cold blade of her hauteur cutting through the masses as easily as a knife parting flesh. His brow quirked as he watched the bubble of empty space that formed about her as she went, as if she exuded such presence that she pushed others back simply by existing. [break] [break] She was also distinguished by being one of the angriest looking individuals he had seen today, which was no small claim to fame. His intensely blue eyes flicked from the flush on her cheeks, to the rapid beat of the pulse at her throat, to the cold and furious light in her glacial regard. 'Now what has someone gone and done to piss someone like you off so much that you lost your ingrained composure, Miss High Society?' [break] [break] Despite her obvious wrothful state, the Fixer displayed no signs whatsoever of having noticed, let alone being disturbed by the woman's displeasure. Instead, with a touch of private amusement at how the woman slipped into charming formality as easily as one might a pair of comfortable slippers, he lifted a hand to give her an airy, languid wave. "Guilty as charged, ma'am. I'll try and make myself as sufferable as possible, don't worry." The smile that spread across his face was an easy one, and, judging by the faint creases that it formed about his eyes, a common visitor upon the fine planes and strong lines of his face. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Fiorelli, and you too, Primrose. I'm Nate, and this sleeping fella here is- Oh. You're awake. Welcome back to consciousness, Dis." [break] [break] The Abra, Dis, had stirred to wakefulness at Elisa's approach, the intensity of the woman's emotions rousing the psychic-type from his light doze. Though his eyes were thin slits in his feline face, they gleamed with a sharp, intelligent interest as they stared right at the woman, as if they could lance straight through to her thoughts - and then they closed, evidently satisfied with whatever they saw. [break] [break] "...Or not! Sorry about him, he's not much for this sort of thing. You tried one of these little heart pastry things yet?" 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