Villiers sat on the bed, staring at his hands. Well, to be more specific, the object in his hands -- two rings of shiny steel, held together by light chain
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Le Chiffre's hoping Villiers planned on telling him about his latest Bar purchase sometime soon, because it's a subject he'd really like to know about.
Either way, it doesn't matter massively, because he's been hiding away for the day and has made a rather successful attempt at coming back quietly. Mostly he's just being stealthy because Villiers isn't in the main room, and the assumption he might be asleep in the bedroom carries Le Chiffre there.
But now he's just leaning against the door frame to the bedroom, head tilted, arms folded, and a curious little smirk reaching his features. And silent, still very silent. Maybe he's been watching for a while. Or maybe not.
A few more seconds pass, with Villiers letting the cuffs clink in his hands. Double-lock police-issue -- despite all appearances, Villiers can admit at least a little experience in these matters.
Then, of course, he looks up, almost dropping the cuffs in his surprise. Because really, he was expecting Le Chiffre to come back later, when Villiers could be a little more prepared, and how can that man move so damn quietly?
As should be expected, there's a light flush at his cheeks after a few more moments. He does, however, make an effort to save face. "...so, you like handcuffs?" he says after a moment, holding them up dangling on a finger. He looks totally innocent with a teeny tiny hopeful sort of smile on his face.
That smirk of his is gradually growing, gaze following the slight sway of the cuffs as they hang from a finger, while he straightens up slowly to make an approach, almost giving him that look of a cat ready to pounce.
There's no pouncing quite yet though, just slow steps forward until he's standing right in front of Villiers. It's the perfect time to lean down and plant a kiss to his forehead, a devilish smile to his lips as his hands rest on the aides shoulders.
There's a good kind of nervousness settling at the back of his mind, the kind that makes him lick his lips unconsciously as Le Chiffre approaches. He shifts slightly, closing his eyes at the kiss, tilting his head back, opening eyes again to look up at Le Chiffre.
It's terribly tempting to reach out and touch, but their positioning, the warm, light weight on his shoulders, keeps his hands down and meekly in his lap. Cupping the handcuffs, fingers fiddling with the arc of steel. Despite that, there's still a matching smile gracing his lips.
"Seemed to fit, seemed to work," he answers. A pause. "I was hoping I'd be right."
Comments 67
Either way, it doesn't matter massively, because he's been hiding away for the day and has made a rather successful attempt at coming back quietly. Mostly he's just being stealthy because Villiers isn't in the main room, and the assumption he might be asleep in the bedroom carries Le Chiffre there.
But now he's just leaning against the door frame to the bedroom, head tilted, arms folded, and a curious little smirk reaching his features. And silent, still very silent. Maybe he's been watching for a while. Or maybe not.
Reply
Then, of course, he looks up, almost dropping the cuffs in his surprise. Because really, he was expecting Le Chiffre to come back later, when Villiers could be a little more prepared, and how can that man move so damn quietly?
As should be expected, there's a light flush at his cheeks after a few more moments. He does, however, make an effort to save face. "...so, you like handcuffs?" he says after a moment, holding them up dangling on a finger. He looks totally innocent with a teeny tiny hopeful sort of smile on his face.
Reply
There's no pouncing quite yet though, just slow steps forward until he's standing right in front of Villiers. It's the perfect time to lean down and plant a kiss to his forehead, a devilish smile to his lips as his hands rest on the aides shoulders.
"Whatever gave you that idea, my dear?"
Reply
It's terribly tempting to reach out and touch, but their positioning, the warm, light weight on his shoulders, keeps his hands down and meekly in his lap. Cupping the handcuffs, fingers fiddling with the arc of steel. Despite that, there's still a matching smile gracing his lips.
"Seemed to fit, seemed to work," he answers. A pause. "I was hoping I'd be right."
Reply
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