originallutece | (no subject)

But. With all that being said . . . I am aware of the effects that the circumstances had upon all our psyches. And so long as you don't try such a thing in public again . . .

I suppose your apology is accepted.

[Akande can honestly not remember the last time he received such a scolding. He is reminded, very briefly, of his mother.

God damn, Madame Lucete. He needs a minute, that sort of knocked him out of the ring.]

So noted.

[There's silence for a while. Not unfriendly, but that could be the end of the conversation. Except--]

Can you cook, Akande?

[is this a trick]

Simple things. Nothing fancy. [he can make decent rice, does that count?]

Make me dinner tonight.

[It was, in fact, a trap. This would never fly in Talon; he'd maybe be expected to owe someone a favor, possibly take someone out to dinner, but not cook for them. This is completely out of the ordinary and he has no idea how to respond.

There's another bit of a pause, and then;]

Can you handle spicy food, or should I temper it?

[alternatively, should he find a cookbook.]

Spicy food is fine.

[Or she'll make believe it's fine and then down a bunch of milk. Whatever. Can't show weakness.]

Eight o'clock, shall we say?

Eight o'clock.

[Well, he's in this challenge now. Time to see how rusty his skills are in this department.]

[Eight o'clock, and she dresses nicely. Not absurdly so, but pleasantly enough, her corset fitted and her dress elegant. She looks a little more old fashioned tonight, though not so much so someone would gawk.]

Hallo, Akande.

[She smiles, and oh, it's so terribly smug as she breezes past him and into his apartment.]

Dinner coming along nicely?

[There are many battles the fabled Doomfist has won. Few foes can defeat him, fewer still more than once.

There are approximately three (3) failed attempts in the trash, and the only saving grace timewise is that he started early. So when Rosalind arrives and is allowed in, his final try - kebabs over rice, something simple but god damn if he's going to try anything fancy again - is only about halfway done.

No, he is not wearing an apron. He is, however, wearing a nice button up shirt with its sleeves rolled up. ~~This may be is second shirt of the night, after his disastrous first attempt~~.]

It's coming along. It should be done in another fifteen minutes. Would you like something to drink?

Wine, if you have it. Scotch or whiskey would do nicely as well.

[He looks very good in that shirt, she will admit only to herself. She's always fond of that kind of look, dressed up but mussed, and the sight of his sleeves rolled up his arms is one she'll admire over the course of the evening. But oh, she's still so terribly smug as she perches on his couch, one leg crossing over the other.]

And what is it we're having tonight, hm?

[She's so lucky he's actively trying to court her. Not as a bedding partner, but as an ally. Anyone else would have been ignored long ago, much less reached out to post such an event. As it is, he moves for the refrigerator, pulling out a bottle of wine]

Suya on rice. [He briefly considers the bottle, then replaces it for another one] I imagine it might be new for you, unless you've visited Nigeria before. [This one'll do. He gets a couple of glasses and pours them both a serving]

[She shakes her head in agreement: no, she's never had such a thing, because she's never been to any country in Africa, never mind Nigeria. But there's intrigue in trying new things, she certainly doesn't mind.

She sits up only to take her glass, then settles back, sipping lightly at it, looking for all the world like she's the queen of this castle.]

So tell me, Akande . . . what was it that made you so remorseful?

[Akande isn't stupid. He knows the posturing is meant to say something. Or, perhaps, to reestablish Rosalind's control of their interactions. Which he doesn't necessarily mind; if anything, making a fool of the kitchen is what's bothered him the most so far. A(n admittedly) privileged man working on his weak points?

Only so enjoyable.

As for her question? He doesn't respond immediately, instead checking on the oven to turn the meat]

I have a degree of pride, Madame Lucete. There are things I find beneath me, and that was one of them. Especially to people I hold in esteem, who have their own pride.

[See. It's not just all about him. (That, or he has the mind to at least imply such.)]

And yet you must have had some desire to do it. It broke down our superegos, but that doesn't mean it planted ideas in our heads.

[One leg crosses over the other, her eyes following him as he heads into the kitchen.]

Though I find it a bit hard to believe you hold me in esteem after all that.

I enjoy testing limits. [The open floor plan keeps him in mostly full view.] Among other things.

[The comment has him stiffen, however. As though he's taken offense, which, to a point, he has. Would he really be playing the domestic host if he didn't have some level of respect for her?

He frowns, straightening and turning to look at her.]

What kind of man do you think I am? Taking everything in to account, I invite your full honesty. [And yes, he is aware he's practically inviting another scorching, but there's a point to it, really]

[Ah. That struck a blow, though she isn't entirely certain why. But he invites her to share her thoughts, and there's not a moment of hesitation; she takes only the time to organize them.]

I've lost count of how many men have threatened me, saying the things you said to me that day. How many men have wanted to see me broken, bent, bowing at their feet; to beg them and mewl for them, my face red and my voice trembling. I've heard it since I was fifteen, and it hasn't stopped in the past twenty years. Do you know why?

Because I wouldn't. Because it was intolerable to them to see a woman who would not melt for them. Worse still: a woman who scorned them. Who dared to act as though she was better than them, when everyone knows women are stupid things, decent only for sex and domesticity.

They didn't all think they were threatening me, of course. Some thought it flirtation. But it was still a threat.

[She tips her head.]

So. What kind of man do I think you are? I think you're prideful. I think you're sadistic. And I think that if it hadn't been for this festival, you would have never pinned me to that wall-- but you would have thought about it. Not just because you're attracted to me, but because I'm justifiably proud of what I am, and I don't bow in awe before you. And on some level or another, that pricks at you.

[He lets her speak, only opening his mouth when he brings his glass to his lips. And more - what she may or may not notice - is that he listens.

She has his full and complete attention as she speaks, and has him giving consideration to her words. It explains some things, her reactions then and now - it all being old hat. He doesn't know if she has been forced in the past, but her familiarity with it says something in itself.

There's a stretch of silence after she's finished in which he gives a final few thoughts to her words, then makes a little 'hnh'.]

Pride is attractive. It is a challenge to me, and as you can guess, I thrive on challenge. And while I might not have thought about pinning you to a wall, I will admit I thought of rising to what you offered.

[He approaches, then, stopping on the other side of the couch to give her a distance - whether or not she needs it is another matter, but the space is there.]

Do you think it is because you are a woman, that you challenge me?

[It's not. At least, he doesn't think he is, after considering himself, but he's curious for her opinion. Something else occurs to him;]

And is it because cooking is 'woman's work' that you had me cook for you tonight?

[Ah. He gives her the courtesy of listening, and so in turn does she, her eyes serious as he speaks. Though at that last point, she smiles, thin and quick, not an expression of humor so much as wry amusement.]

No. Not consciously, anyway. It was simply an easy way to make you give in to my demands. A reasonable request, but one that takes time and effort to complete.

[As for the rest of it . . . she sits up, resting her glass on the table, her eyes still locked on his. She looks . . . thoughtful, really. Curious, but certainly not angry.]

I challenge you because I challenge everyone, Akande.

[A few seconds pass.]

And what kind of challenge do you enjoy here, hm? Here, now, when neither of us are at the mercy of each other.

[He tilts his head in acknowledgement, to both her explanations. The latter pleases him, however subtly, and at the question?

He makes a gesture, hand away from chest]

The challenge of a peace offering. Which is what I hope tonight to be. Before you ask, no, I don't expect you to forget what happened, but I would like this to be an opportunity to show you that I do still respect you, and would work to earn yours back. [Though she clearly holds at least some degree for him, but that's not the point.]

May I ask; those men who assaulted you and your friend. You took them by surprise, but did you take them with skill? If not, it may be prudent to learn certain techniques.

[translation; hey girl want me to teach you some self defense. or even-]

I'm opening a gymnasium in the Down. There is another man there who could likely teach you, if you would prefer someone more your build.

[which is a polite way of saying 'if you would prefer someone other than me']

I've given thought to learning some techniques. I've found a female teacher, but nor would I mind learning from multiple sources.

[Though the thought of some strange man teaching her doesn't agree at all. (Though she does at least appreciate he's clever enough to know that his teaching her might not appeal).]

Was that an offer for yourself to fill that role, Akande?

If you wished. Though I warn you, I am a harsh teacher, myself. [The once-over he gives is quick, meant to reaffirm what he's already seen in her] With you, I would likely focus on disabling techniques. Ways to cripple even a stronger foe before your leverage becomes none.

[Such as being gripped in a giant gold gauntlet, for example. Of course, if she'd managed to go for his face, she might have had a chance.]

But, [and he waves a hand dismissively] that can come at another time. And I would prefer you consider it separate from this. [It's a simple offer, not an attempt at making things up. The better she knows how to defend herself, as well, the more subtle respect she'll have from him.]

All right.

[Though she's already made her decision. She's always done well under harsh tutors; far better that than someone who goes slow. Even if physical prowess isn't her forte, she thinks she and Akande would do well together.

But that's for her to text him tomorrow.]

Then what shall we discuss, since you seem to be keen on directing the conversation? Not your suitability as my teacher . . . what of your suitability in my bed, hm?

[That answers an unspoken question that Akande had wondered; just how comfortable she was with things. Certainly, there's all she's expressed in words and body language, but all but inviting him to sleep with her?

He can't help but arch a brow, allowing her to take her turn with the direction.]

Are you asking me for a go without outside factors?

[aka; with superego, as she phrased it. Which...he certainly would not be against. That so-called 'quota' aside.]

I'm saying . . . I wouldn't be opposed. So long as we set certain limitations.

[She watches him, and it's much like one predator watching another: careful and wary, but intrigued nonetheless. He's near, but not so close she feels a prickle of wariness, but that means she can scan him up and down, taking him in a little more.]

And . . . if the next time we fuck, I dictate how it goes.

[Ah, and there's that spark of challenge in her gaze again.]

DONE

that was beautiful and i love it

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