Business or Pleasure [Candice, Giselle]

Giselle let out a soft, pleased little hum as she found herself being pulled in and held closely to Candice along the way. A strangely pleasing sensation as the woman's body heat promptly cancelled out the night chill. Not that it was particularly cold, but all the same, she wasn't wearing something as insulating as she usually did. And therein Candice would notice that Giselle did feel a little warmer than one would expect.

"Ah sorry. I get like that when I think about the past sometimes." She blurted out, pausing as she glanced up at Candice and watched as the woman seemed to take this little task quite seriously! Making sure the girl made it all the way to the apartment and even accompanying her inside! She paused....teetering just a little as she followed Candice for a few steps and paused to watch the woman, the idle stroking of the couch, the look that the woman was giving her in response to the observation, honestly it wasn't even that much of a compliment. If anything she had worried Candice might take it as an insult that she had presumed Candice would be ....well, NOT nice when she had met her. However much she had dressed it up as 'fashion is brutal'.

Why did this woman surprise her so?

The question found it's way into her head. Not a few hours ago, she had looked at Candice the same way someone might look at a raccoon sniffing around their garbage. Just watching to see if the critter was going to make trouble. She had all the markers of someone who might make trouble for her. And here she was, in the ebbing chill of the night peeled from her in the warm cosiness of her apartment, staring at this woman. She was ....like the sun. That day she had looked upon Candice with measured contempt, or at least a form of it. She was bright. Hot. Annoying. And yet as darkness had fallen, and that same sun had set, she could not help but take in it's beauty, as like a setting sun her fading intensity cast the world in it's own version of pretty purples and oranges. Tonight she looked at Candice and wondered how she'd never seen this before. What upbringing was to be credited? What chances had she missed in finding people like her? Or had she simply ignored them in the past?

How many Candices had she killed?

How many Candices had she reduced to drooling zombies?

She walked up to the taller blonde, stumbling only because her attention was so focused, catching herself on the top of the couch behind her and barely keeping from just stumbling into Candice completely. "No." She managed to murmur. That coy, singsong tone was gone from her voice. Oh no. I'm a serious Drunk...Stop. Stop right now. "I'm not teasing. I'm not joking. You're nice. And not ..... just polite nice." She murmured, and her face was ......open. She furrowed her brows as if mystified by the woman she was looking at. I don't deserve this. This is for people. Normal....people. She smiled, as if she'd found something on that face of Candice's. I hate humans. They lie. They pretend. They smile like you're their everything. But when it comes down to it....they still grab the torches. They still look at you with hate and fear.

"You're more than nice. You're wonderful." She hummed, head slowly canting to the side, breaking from that serious tone like a warm breeze into the cold, gulping darkness.

They took EVERYTHING from me.

"You're beautiful." She said with a giggle, a warm peal from those jagged feelings she hid.

This is stupid. This is temporary. This is Fleeting. She'll be dead in a hundred years. She's nothing. A distraction. A pretty toy. A pet.

"I think the cold followed us in. I should lay down.... wanna help me not fall over? " She asked, pointing with her chin to the Couch they were both leaning on, her smile just as lacking in innocence.. She was too tipsy to be rational. To latch onto those thorns in her head.

She's going to enjoy whatever this is.

She couldn't help but smile and giggle just a bit at being called delicate. This was far too sweet. Far too lovely. But she didn't care. The gnashing echoes that screamed into the mud of her mind were drowning now. Nothing but the soft bubbling of their cries in her head as she allowed herself this. This ....warmth. The touch of the woman's hand on her own. She shouldn't have been surprised that Candice would take the lead. That soft slide to her palm, and then she felt their fingers gently wind together. The hand that slid around her waist was a surprise. She had expected to simply be guided. But before she knew it, the woman was pulling her close, close enough for her heart to quicken as the human slowly settled onto the couch. And she, was practically cradled into the woman's lap, that racing pulse now working against her usual clandestine tendencies. Giselle's emotional state would be palpably obvious among other things.

And those words. She would have balked, hesitated, were it not for the hand that was gently crawling like a warm vine up the length of her spine, gently nestling up into that braid of her hair.

Oh.

"Yes." She murmured quietly. Caught in this sudden snare. There was little room for hesitation or struggling. This was .....she didn't know if it was what she'd wanted. No not in the slightest. She had NOT intended for this. This was ..... if she was sober. This would be a problem, a complication.

But there was no voice in her head anymore. Nothing but the warm glow in the wake of the sight of Candice as those warm blooming joys spread through her frame. The hand that wasn't snared in Candice's slid gently around the taller woman's shoulders.

No worries.

She didn't know if she leaned in. Or if Candice had. But she knew that the distance between herself and the human eclipsed in the new moon of soft contact and warmth in Giselle's head. She found herself kissing the other woman in a soft and surprisingly tender embrace. Clinging to this feeling that welled up in her chest, and basking in what she could muster, anything that she could garner, this fake dream she was refusing to wake up from. Pretending as hard as she could that this was anything other than a fragile, wonderful mistake.

I don't want to wake up.

Not yet.

Please.