It's a chilly afternoon in Paris. There's been a little bit of snow- not a lot, just a flurry- and the crisp winter air licks at the panes of the apartment where Dunnett's turned up
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Colin's got gloves, and a heavy coat tightly belted around himself. One would think he was coming in from the top of Everest, given the quickness he's inside once invited, the way he shudders as he shakes his head, dislodging some snow from his hair before it might actually melt... his gloves come off first, as he says "Thanks. This really- it's a lovely scarf, but I imagine you knew that." If certain immortal folk are not closing the door yet, he reaches to get that done himself. Because he likes his core temperature. Yeah, he really isn't a fan of being out in the winter, apparently. "Where'd you find it?" he asks- unwrapping it from his throat, reaching to put it over a hook beneath the coat he peels off- under that, he's got a big fisherman's sweater and a green buttondown- and blue jeans.
For a long while, he just didn't answer; then Colin said "... so that's... of your hair?" A bit of blinking as his gaze turned back to his host. "You only decided to start calling me a fox three days ago- you work very quickly. It's the most unique gift I've been given, ever- thanks." He had no idea, didn't he.
Indeed, the tub was warm enough to get a slight hiss out of him: not a loud one, not really a protest. Just an acknowledgement that the water was hot, and that he needed to get used to it. The last time, actually... was just the other afternoon. With a good book, rather than a handsome fellow. And the joy of fiddling with the knobs of the tub with his feet, soaking up the heat of the tub, eventually turning himself into one giant prune with the salts and oils of his skin having soaked away. "Mmmm?" he asked, blinking a bit- and then remembering- oh right. Hand. He offered his hand over readily, with a slight smile. "I am being spoiled, I think," he accused teasingly.
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"Where'd you find it?" he asks- unwrapping it from his throat, reaching to put it over a hook beneath the coat he peels off- under that, he's got a big fisherman's sweater and a green buttondown- and blue jeans.
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( ... )
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He had no idea, didn't he.
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( ... )
Reply
"Mmmm?" he asked, blinking a bit- and then remembering- oh right. Hand. He offered his hand over readily, with a slight smile. "I am being spoiled, I think," he accused teasingly.
Reply
( ... )
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