CHARM Helping Hands
Her quick nod—barely there but for the pleased noise she'd made to make Dalton pay attention—prompted him to lower his hand. He kept his palm upturned, knowing he wanted to keep it and store it, but he hadn't equipped himself for that sort of thing on his way out.
“They say curiosity killed the cat,” Dalton began, grinning crookedly as he caught on to her play of words. His other hand used the key he'd dug up to unlock his door, pushing it open and stepping inside. “But satisfaction brought it back.”
He could not be sure if she spoke a truth about herself, for either she was simply referencing the odd rules that ruled the supernatural or she was admitting to being beholden to one. A common rule among the supernaturals he'd observed was to obfuscate and speak in half-truths, so only further data would confirm which it was.
Regardless of truths, Dalton opened the door wide for her and gestured her inside, the sweep of his hand and the rattling keys a juxtaposition of formality and play. The entryway itself had a chequer-pattern tile flooring, leading towards a staircase to the second floor, which hid a reading nook just underneath it. Plants were scattered around, vibrant and green, some for show and some for his work.
As soon as she entered, the spectral hands holding the umbrella would lower it and shake off the little rain that had gathered after she'd drawn it to her. Then it was gently propped up in the umbrella stand for the next time Dalton had to use it.
Her quick nod—barely there but for the pleased noise she'd made to make Dalton pay attention—prompted him to lower his hand. He kept his palm upturned, knowing he wanted to keep it and store it, but he hadn't equipped himself for that sort of thing on his way out.
“They say curiosity killed the cat,” Dalton began, grinning crookedly as he caught on to her play of words. His other hand used the key he'd dug up to unlock his door, pushing it open and stepping inside. “But satisfaction brought it back.”
He could not be sure if she spoke a truth about herself, for either she was simply referencing the odd rules that ruled the supernatural or she was admitting to being beholden to one. A common rule among the supernaturals he'd observed was to obfuscate and speak in half-truths, so only further data would confirm which it was.
Regardless of truths, Dalton opened the door wide for her and gestured her inside, the sweep of his hand and the rattling keys a juxtaposition of formality and play. The entryway itself had a chequer-pattern tile flooring, leading towards a staircase to the second floor, which hid a reading nook just underneath it. Plants were scattered around, vibrant and green, some for show and some for his work.
As soon as she entered, the spectral hands holding the umbrella would lower it and shake off the little rain that had gathered after she'd drawn it to her. Then it was gently propped up in the umbrella stand for the next time Dalton had to use it.