Greyson Connors

Greyson Connors

Greyson Connors

Greyson Connors

Greyson Connors

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His confirmation stirs warmth in her chest, and she doesn't press him further. Nervousness is replaced by excitement, and she glances past him to the next set of beautiful explosions. Their booms vibrate even the ground they stand on - or perhaps she's just really, really tired. Since landing in Hoenn she was still suffering from jet lag in the sense that sleeping on a rocking cruise ship was not ideal.[break][break]

They swap cones and she waits until he has tasted his own before enjoying her own. She takes note that he hadn't touched hers despite offering him a taste of his own, but she doesn't yet address it. Instead, she is drawn by the orange cream on his lips and she smiles, amused. She licks her own lips as if he might mirror her, or as if imagining it might be also on her lips, too.[break][break]

"Ah- yes. Hmm.. oh! I see an open space over this way, come on!"[break][break]

Gwen's voice is still soft, but she inclines her head and moves past him and toward an open spot in the field.

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"You do?"[break][break]

She is genuinely surprised and her voice is small, incredulous. This was a distraction, an unnecessary detour that would normally be overlooked in favor of work. But, she reasoned, wasn't she finished with work? Instinctively, the woman glances around as if looking for someone. In this instance, she had no obligations, no task assigned to her. Amor wasn't here for her to watch over and protect.[break][break]

And hadn't he said something about doing 'what she wanted'? How had he put it? It had made her head spin.[break][break]

"I--"[break][break]

He offers her the orange cone and she hesitates before reaching for it awkwardly, pausing halfway through to glance back at him. She'd already been given permission and yet the offer was so strange and out of the ordinary that she felt the need to make absolute sure.[break][break]

"It smells.. really good, actually!"[break][break]

She purses her lips, impressed, before licking it. It's cold on her tongue, which is to be expected, but it is also surprisingly sweet and maybe a little tangy. Gwen's eyebrows raise in delight and she nods, offering it back.[break][break]

"It's good! It's very sweet, though."

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Misinterpreting the situation wasn't uncommon- but usually she was set alongside @amor who knew how best to navigate a conversation. He was the conversationalist, she was merely the shadow. So when Greyson questions her and stares back at her with the same confused stare, she struggles to catch her breath.[break][break]

Warmth returns to her face, this time in mortification. Her eyes are wide and she glances away from him quickly, struggling to rectify the situation. It came back down to why she'd agreed to come along with him in the first place. Had it been guilt? She didn't feel guilty- or she did, but for different reasons.[break][break]

"Do you like fireworks?"[break][break]

Why did she ask that?[break][break]

"I-- I do want to."[break][break]

Why did she say that?[break][break]

Greyson searches her face and his intensity is unusual. No one except perhaps Amor had ever paid such close attention to her expressions. It made her think she had something on her face. She swallows and the man handling the ice cream clears his throat and beckons to them with their prepared ice creams.[break][break]

"I've never had another flavor."[break][break]

Frankly, she hadn't known another kind really existed. It'd never been something she'd looked into or considered. She eyes his orange cone, baffled.

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"No--" her interjection is sharp, an admission of guilt.[break][break]

"That isn't necessary, really."[break][break]

It was an act of selfishness and surely he was only offering because he felt he had to. How unprofessional of her, it was discouraging. Father would be displeased. To watch the fireworks was a priviledge, a gift that she should work for, not be given easily. Conflict is written in her exasperated expression as he walks away to retrieve their treats.[break][break]

You can try mine too, if you want.[break][break]

If she wanted?[break][break]

"Why?"[break][break]

Her confusion is blurted out suddenly. Why would he want to share something that he had gotten for himself?

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"Mmm.."[break][break]

She hums thoughtfully, following him quietly out of the tent and outside. There, the noises grow exponentially, and her dark eyes follow the darkening sky. More and more fireworks whizz into the dark, exploding in showers of colour. It takes her breath away.[break][break]

In fact, the woman is so distracted by it that she slips, walking further despite him having stopped in the line. She bumps into the back of him just as he asks her what she's feeling. Dazed, she misunderstands the question and steps back.[break][break]

"Distracted-- my apologies again."[break][break]

Only after a second of pause does she realize he'd meant what flavour, and she clears her throat awkwardly, tucking her chin to her chest briefly. She scans the menu briefly, but her mind had already been made up: she would get what she was always offered, plain vanilla.[break][break]

"Oh.. vanilla is fine, thank you."

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Outside.[break][break]

It catches her off-guard, but she catches the rope before it is pulled out of reach. Her hand remains in his for a moment longer than perhaps it should, so she gingerly pulls it away. His earlier compliment repeats itself over and over in her head and it leaves her dizzy.[break][break]

"Sure. I like ice cream."[break][break]

And then she slips off of the bar stool, tucking hair behind one ear only for it to fall back into place. With a small smile, she waits for him to take the lead. It's a habit, to always be the shadow, one that she doesn't shake even now.[break][break]

Ice cream..[break][break]

That was something she hadn't had in a while, either.

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All of a sudden, it feels like a spotlight had struck her with the wide-eyed impression he makes at her. She has half a mind to glance over her shoulder, expecting there to be a horrific scene or a bar fight or something. But given the usual rise and fall of the crowd, she had a feeling nothing was amiss.[break][break]

And not even she, a master of stoicism, though clearly that was an overzealous boast, can stifle the flush of heat across the bridge of her nose. [break][break]

"That's.. very kind of you to say. Thank you."[break][break]

Her father's lessons to express gratitude and thankfulness echoes in the back of her mind despite her embarrassment. She had never heard anyone compliment her name so readily. It unravelled a sense of pride and bashful comfort that she hadn't experienced before, and she found herself watching him dissolve into his own impression of embarrassment.[break][break]

And then her hand is clasped in his and she sucks in a breath in surprise, glancing from his fingers to his face. His violet eyes are captivating and sweet and she isn't sure what sort of fluttery feeling is uncovered.[break][break]

"The pleasure is all mine, Greyson- minus the means in which it happened."[break][break]

He shakes her hand and she returns the gesture, but her attention is quickly captured by the whistle of fireworks behind them. Even through the tent they were in due to this being a travelling faire that was taken down and set up overnight on weekends, she could see the bright colours. They clap and explode, and she subconsciously squeezes his hand. [break][break]

Visually, she manages to keep her composure, but anticipation and excitement course through her. She loved fireworks.[break][break]
"Uhh-- I don't really drink."[break][break]

Gwen chuckles awkwardly at the admission, refocusing on him given he had just asked her a question she'd left hanging in favour of her child-like excitement.

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Could he? He didn't look the type, especially not with how easily he had let something trip him. Surely, if he were trained as she was, 'the same way sometimes', he would have avoided this situation entirely.[break][break]

Or perhaps she's misunderstanding. [break][break]

Rather than question him, she glances down at his leg as he extends it and bends it experimentally. She says nothing, as the range of movement is not indicative of any serious injury.[break][break]

"A drink?"[break][break]

She parrots the offer with a note of surprise. But the stranger's stammering supersedes any of her own flustered responses. Gwen muses quietly, regarding the man with renewed interest at his boldness and her surprising reluctance to leave. Her entire life had been in service to another. Interactions with the public outside of obligations to keep Amor safe were like navigating unfamiliar territory.[break][break]

"Okay, sure."[break][break]

She extends a calloused hand for a firm handshake. The woman's smile is warm but shy.[break][break]

"My name is Guinevere-- Gwen, if you'd prefer."[break][break]

If her Kalosian accent had not previously been noticeable, the smooth pronunciation of her name would be.