Dinner with a Werewolf

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IamLEAM1983
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Re: Dinner with a Werewolf

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Reluctantly, Archie slipped his bedrobe back on. He felt like clinging onto arousal for a while longer, but his body was spent. The port had closed, his reserves of sterile oil had been spent, and all he had left were the ghosts of Crystal's caresses. He slipped his bedrobe on along with his slippers and headed for the observatory. Shamus was still asleep for the time being, as was his habit. You could hear his snores from the stairs' landing, as loud as they were. If anything, seeing his friend in such a placid state made him slightly resentful towards his body's lasting pangs of desire. Still, that resentment didn't go too far, as all he had to do in order to dispel it involved going back to its source. If he left his thoughts drift towards Crystal again, he found himself seized with the more voluptuous twin to yesterday's date-related anxiety. He had to fight the urge to race back up the stairs and tear his own clothes off to join her in the shower, rust be damned.

Once in his maintenance area, stripping again and entering his vat of oil didn't procure him quite as much relief as it usually did. As ever, he felt the viscous fluid seep into every nook and cranny, replacing the occasional errant bit of tension with rediscovered smoothness. He found no relaxation on a mental or emotional level, however. He still went through his routine, rotating all his main joints and working every motile part of his anatomy, making sure nothing would stick or hit a snag during the day. The sensation of oil invading his cranial space usually brought him a sense of immediate stress relief, but all he felt was that superfluous jelly had been allowed to jiggle around behind his eyeballs. Drying himself off in the large sawdust vat wasn't any better, the fluffy wood flakes feeling unusually cold today.

As ever, he'd carried the day's clothes with him to the observatory and got dressed. He found himself assuming that young lovers felt the way he did, that it was normal to feel as if clothes were suddenly some kind of hindrance. The only thing he wanted to wear was her, and her scent was on absolutely nothing. It felt like putting on someone else's clothes, a rather eerie sensation.

Still, coming out into the brisk morning air did chip away at his remaining lust. He'd wanted to give her a privileged access to what was hidden behind Lord Holden's affectations, but he still needed these shows of gentlemanly distance to feel at ease. That ice he'd chipped at felt like it was rebuilding - albeit with a special door to which Crystal now had the key.

Returning inside Holden Hall, he chanced a look at himself in one of the potted ferns' curved reflections of the main hallway. Everything was in place and nobody could've guessed that a profound change had taken root inside himself. He quirked an eyebrow at himself, mostly for show, and was rather pointlessly relieved to see that everything was still the same. If you didn't know what to look for, you wouldn't have guessed at the ways in which Lord Holden had changed.

It wasn't everyday that you became aware of your own quirks, of the things that made you yourself. His sword cane's angle, the spats he'd chosen, his copper-tinted paisley waistcoat and the assorted cravat, shirt and tail-sporting morning jacket. His fob watch's little pocket, his white gloves...

Everything had changed, and nothing had changed.

Without really knowing why, he chose to post himself at the foot of the stairs, top hat cradled in one arm and his other hand resting on his cane's pommel, as if he were waiting for her. Maybe some part of him hoped that she'd see how he'd changed without changing. What he did know, however, was that nervousness had inexplicably left him. He'd greet Crystal like the lady she was in his eyes and heart and would offer her breakfast as naturally as if they'd been courting for years. Propriety didn't matter, as he knew deep down that she was to be his for as long as her wolf spirit would give her strength and vigor, for as long as she would draw breath.
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TennyoCeres84
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Re: Dinner with a Werewolf

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Crystal had finished showering and washing her hair. Thankfully, she had laid her clothes out, so they didn't have any wrinkles. Putting yesterday's clothes back on, she plaited her hair into a long braid. During the course of the shower, she was reluctant to wash his scent off, even with the fact metallic scents took a while to get rid of. She had never thought she would miss the scent of copper and brass against her skin. It was odd.

With only the faded scent of her lover to remind her of their time together, she left the bedroom and saw the automaton at the bottom of the stairs. Smiling at him, the werewolf quickly hurried down the steps. Her wolf side had receded to the background, its instincts sated for now.
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Re: Dinner with a Werewolf

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He bowed to her, as he'd done on the previous night. "Crystal," he said, a bit of an impish tone clinging to his words, "would I be remiss in saying that we have senses other than our loins to sate? Aislinn's butler is not due to arrive in the immediate, and so I wondered if you would do me the esteemed honor of cooking breakfast for you. Or, to be more precise, for the both of us."

Contrary to yesterday, however, there was no frightened humility in his tone. Pride, love and playfulness could be sensed in his words.

"Pardon the indiscretion, but I fear we've condemned the rest of the day to being utterly boring, in comparison to what we've just experienced," he joked. "Poor little day, so soon out of its egg and so quickly robbed of all meaning by the best twelve hours in this automaton's lifetime..."

A finger came up. "This automaton's, yes - and I do so hope, the werewolf's as well, hm?"
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Re: Dinner with a Werewolf

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Crystal beamed a smile at him. "I would be honored if you could prepare breakfast for the both of us," she stated. "It'll be a bland day, otherwise. We might as well savor food as one of the day's few respites. What a pity," she joked.
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Re: Dinner with a Werewolf

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The walk to the old servants' kitchens wasn't too long, but it was still enough for Crystal to see that her beau was almost floating, as happy as he was. He did his best to keep a decent pace, one hand leisurely resting on his cane's pommel, but it was obvious that he was reining himself in. A smirk continuously played on his lips, and a muted version of his earlier swirling and gleaming eye reflections still gave added life to his eyes.

Once there, he rested his cane's handle against the top of the doorframe, leaving it to hang there, and set about picking up an apron and a few essentials, humming all the while.

"Damn these pedestrian gestures," he then muttered, "I'd rather break into song or snatch one of the swords from my plaques or armor suits. I would whisk you aboard the Archimedes and sail towards the most contentious corners of the globe, where we would mete out justice like the daring adventurers we are! You and I, back to back against the raging hordes, with nothing but our wits and our bonds to see us through the day!"

As he spoke, he unconsciously made a little show of setting bread in the toaster and eggs in the frying pan, after removing his morning jacket and hat and setting them on a nearby coatrack. Nevermind how pampered he'd once been, Archie had learned from his Army years, while his years spent carousing the globe with Bucky had developed his adventuresome dispositions. He didn't really need to look as if he had so much fun with his own pots and pans, but he couldn't really help himself. He juggled with the salt and pepper shakers, set the pans to spinning as he held a spatula next to the egg whites, making sure they wouldn't stick. In a sense, he'd remind Crystal of a more energetic take on Teppanyaki, more spritely and improvisational than the real thing. Of course, the emerging breakfast wasn't exactly Japanese, what came out of his ministrations being a distinctly British breakfast meal, albeit with the modern concessions of freshly diced canary and honey melon slices, along with watermelon cubes.

"I'm sorry, I got entirely too carried away to enquire about your preferences, but I do hope you'll find Eggy-in-a-Basket to be to your liking," he explained, scoffing in light amusement. He'd essentially set a lightly fried egg on an equally carefully toasted piece of bread, with salt, butter and pepper being left to their personal tastes.

"Should you require anything more, I can whip us a small pot's worth of porridge, as well," he then added. Of course, what he actually had on hand was organic oatmeal flakes purchased in abhorrence of the individually-sealed Quaker Oats mix, but that really qualified as a case for the old tomato, tomahto adage. Porridge, oatmeal... Same meal, different name.
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Re: Dinner with a Werewolf

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Crystal chuckled. "No, the meal you've prepared is fine, Archie. I've just never seen anyone almost walking on air in their happiness," she complimented, sitting down. "Now, if you start twirling around a lamppost, then I think you'll need to be brought down a few feet," she joked.

Honestly, she was happy to see her lover so joyous over their new bond. While totally different, she wondered if this was something like what Anastasius Romanov felt when he found his latest emotional obsession. And having a man who could cook was good, too. She took a bite of the British dish and smiled. "This is really tasty. Thank you," she said.
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Re: Dinner with a Werewolf

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"Finally, some culinary credit!" exclaimed the Clank, "Shamus believes that nothing qualifies as cuisine unless bacon is involved," he explained, scoffing. "Of course, being who and what he is, he lands criticisms and still scarfs everything down. He actively seeks the sensation of being stuffed, while I stick to my own sensory perceptions. Not sensing hunger all too often, I tend to limit myself to light breakfasts."

He smirked. "Besides, I doubt that my supervisor, Deputy Chief Crystal Lowell, would appreciate the notion of her man sleeping on the job thanks to rampant digestive processes."
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Re: Dinner with a Werewolf

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The werewolf snickered. "Ah, bacon. The core staple of any everyman, even if he's seven feet tall and made of metal," she joked. Crystal then shrugged. "To each their own, I say. You complement each other, even in your opposing sides," she noted, taking another bite. She teasingly pointed a fork at him. "And you're damn right I don't want you sleeping on the job after excessive eating."
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Re: Dinner with a Werewolf

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Having also prepared a pot of tea in the process, Archie took a good sip after giving Crystal an inquiring glance. "I do wonder, however - your wolf spirit sometimes has to endure you working through matters of the mind, rather than those of instinct. How does it fare on paperwork days, seeing as you've come quite a ways away from the beat?"

He shrugged. "I'd like to assume that Hellish visits from planes unknown and Fae terrorists aside, you typically have little reason to go on all fours within the city's confines. No decent prey, to be more precise."
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Re: Dinner with a Werewolf

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Crystal scoffed. "She gets bored, for certain. I have to find some way to stimulate her during the times I'm not filling out paperwork. I might do this tossing a tennis ball at a wall within the precinct parking lot and catching it. Video games that require a lot of movement will also do. It's more a matter of exerting energy than anything else. Of course, finding small game to hunt is an option," she explained.
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