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Rosalind Lutece

Doctor of physics, professor at Recollé University.

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Surely not! [He feigns being utterly shocked. (Speaking of silly.) Fingers splayed against chest, he says-] Even I indulge in inanity now and again. It's refreshing.

It's irritating.

[Good grief. She's not so humorless as to roll her eyes at his little display, but it's a close thing.]

And self-indulgent. There's nothing wrong with it in private, but at work, or day to day? No.

[This is where normal people yell "lighten up", probably. Ardyn does the same thing, in his own way. Which is poking fun at her.]

Being silly only in private is such a depressing concept. Surely you can't be that solemn all of the time-

[He pauses, pretending to realize something.]

Oh. You're just self-conscious, aren't you?

[It's obvious bait, which is why she doesn't fluster and take it.]

I can be as solemn as I please, as long as I please. Self-consciousness has nothing to do with it.

[You're no fun, Ros! But if he garners no reaction, Ardyn just keeps at it.]

What's the saying? "Your face will get stuck like that"?

I might retort the same to you, with that smile.

[He knows the one. The smug one.]

People like my smile. It wouldn't be so bad.

[Who tells you that, Ardyn? He's probably making it up, honestly.]

You'd get into a fight before the night is out. You're too good at aggravating people as it is.

My talent for getting under people's skin only shines through when I wish for it to.

[Something he has always been admittedly very good at. Wheedling at people with his words, making them agitated, pointing out their ridiculous faults -- but only if such a person deserves it. It's rare that he ever feels the need to be so harsh, and honestly, it only ever served him well as a practicing lawyer.]

It's not something I passively do.

I don't know how I feel about that, given how often you try and annoy me.

[But glory be, that's actually fondly said. Rosalind drums her fingers atop the little Ardyn-outfit doodle, then pushes it towards him with the slightest of smiles.]

An R. Lutece original. Treasure it.

[A beat, and then:]

Thank you. For keeping me company tonight.

Then if what I said is true, it must be because I'm doing it on purpose.

[He chuckles at that. He's not, of course.

He reaches out and picks up the doodle, eying it. He's impressed by its accuracy, though a few details here and there are off -- but it's certainly no fault of hers. He didn't tell her about every single terrible pattern that adorned his outfit.] And thank you for the wonderful piece of art. I'll frame it and hang it in my office promptly.

[In other words, you're welcome, and he'd be more than happy to entertain her with his company again if she ever wishes it.]

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