( she doesn't find dinner terrifying. more trying. it's a waste of her time and her energy, and those are things she hates to waste. as good as the meal smells, it's not going to get her any closer to the incentive she's here to get. she isn't intimidated by the prospect of having dinner with someone, the queen would never admit something like that, not even to herself.
she likes the game, though, trying to entice him away from the food and towards what she's here for. Regina has always enjoyed the art of seduction, and she's damned good at it, too. the smile playing at her features as she looks over his work is not really because his beef stew is perfectly executed, to say the least.
Regina accepts the glass with a smile, a perfectly manicured brow lifting a little. ) Well, I don't know about that, but I'll spare you the 2001 election. ( she hadn't marked him as one of the citizens from the past, though, which intrigues her. ) What year did you arrive from?
[ Solo wants freedom. He's tired of being under the thumb of the government. Tired of having a leash that tells him where to do and who to kill. He'll do anything he has to in order to make that happen. That includes cooking dinner for Regina. He finds that it helps in the bedroom. Eating means talking and talking means learning things about one another. Sometimes you can pick up little things a person likes. It's subtle things they do.
He frowns when she mentions this 2001 election. He doesn't know a thing about. It's strange to realize that even after you die (he doubts he'll live that long) the world just keeps turning with you. You aren't as important as you seem. ] 1963 if we're being specific. Very fun time. If you have a chance to go there. Which I heard is going to be possible. [ Solo retrieves his glass and back steps until he's leaning against the counter. Hand bracing himself and takes a sip. ]
What about you? What year did you arrive from? [ He is definitely not undressing her with his eyes. Working each little bit of clothing off as he sips from his glass. She'd definitely look good without that dress. He can already tell. ]
Is it? ( she hasn't heard about LINKS, yet the concept of her caring about someone enough to offer them a charm, or get a charm from her in return, seems very rare indeed. maybe with more time spent in the city, it isn't impossible. it just seems that way to the woman that refuses to let herself close to anyone, at least at the moment. ) I remember the eighties. Anything has to be better than that.
( it's technically aging herself to admit that, however, Storybrooke arrived in Maine in the late eighties, and while she hadn't aged much since, she can still remember the horrible fashion and styles. surely the sixties couldn't be that bad comparatively, though she didn't see herself bothering to find out. )
It was 2014. Quite different from the sixties, I'm sure. Less mod and mashed potato, yet we made our strides elsewhere. ( for example, women's clothing. men's clothing, too, he seems like a man that might appreciate that. she can tell he's watching her as she moves, so she does her best to make a show for him, subtle movements as she leans over the stove and finds a spoon to sample his wine sauce with. she sucks the metal clean and pauses to consider. ) Not bad. ( that's a hell of a compliment from Regina, actually. )
It is. Very interest. There is the slight government issues, but the fashion is amazing. Real strides. Pants. Mini skirts. Which--[ He tilts his head to blatantly look at her legs because wow. They are very nice legs. He's definitely a little hypnotized by those things. ]--would look divine on you. Good music too. [ The only other time he has to compare it to is the fifties and he spent a large chunk of that in the war. He has a leash these days held by the CIA, but he knows well enough.
The eighties. Well, that's certainly curious. The fact that she remembers the eighties so fondly and yet she's from 2014. That's definitely not something he saw coming. Then again he did meet two aliens so he's pretty sure that's in the realm of possibilities. He's always been better at going with strange things. Illya on the other hand might be having a fit right now. He does miss that big lunk. ]
If I go home live it out I likely won't be able to enjoy it. [ That's a morbid thought. He frowns a little and shakes his head. ] Not bad huh? [ He puts his glass down and steps over towards Regina. Enjoying the very vivid mental imagery of her sucking that metal so clean. ] Are you hungry? Or should I start with the massage first?
Sweetheart, I don't wear miniskirts. ( that's cute that he even thinks that's a thing that would happen. a good pencil skirt is the closest she's ever gotten, and above the knee was about as short as she got. she's a lady, kinda, even though she wears skin-tight dresses and does her damnedest to convince her company to rip her clothing off of her. ) We'll have to agree to disagree on the music, too, but I admit I am fond of modernity. Less constricting on the roles of women, and it only took what, a hundred years?
( poor suffragettes, worked so hard for an equality that still hasn't been realized. still, that's a political conversation and politics are far from on her mind tonight. she abandons the tasting spoon as he moves closer, tilting her head slightly to look him in the eye. oh, right, he'd been on about a massage, hadn't he? )
This isn't a nude massage, is it? ( she inquired, managing a smirk that implied she'd probably take her clothes off if he indicated it was, but good luck getting to dinner if she's naked, Solo. she'll have you before you finish even half of the rubdown, she can tell just by the way he's watching her, and she's always enthralled when she has someone caught in her web. ) Massage first, I suppose. I do cary a lot of tension here. ( she rubs the line of her neck, though her fingers run the gambit and trail down her throat and the impressive swell of her cleavage as he watches. )
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she likes the game, though, trying to entice him away from the food and towards what she's here for. Regina has always enjoyed the art of seduction, and she's damned good at it, too. the smile playing at her features as she looks over his work is not really because his beef stew is perfectly executed, to say the least.
Regina accepts the glass with a smile, a perfectly manicured brow lifting a little. ) Well, I don't know about that, but I'll spare you the 2001 election. ( she hadn't marked him as one of the citizens from the past, though, which intrigues her. ) What year did you arrive from?
no subject
He frowns when she mentions this 2001 election. He doesn't know a thing about. It's strange to realize that even after you die (he doubts he'll live that long) the world just keeps turning with you. You aren't as important as you seem. ] 1963 if we're being specific. Very fun time. If you have a chance to go there. Which I heard is going to be possible. [ Solo retrieves his glass and back steps until he's leaning against the counter. Hand bracing himself and takes a sip. ]
What about you? What year did you arrive from? [ He is definitely not undressing her with his eyes. Working each little bit of clothing off as he sips from his glass. She'd definitely look good without that dress. He can already tell. ]
no subject
( it's technically aging herself to admit that, however, Storybrooke arrived in Maine in the late eighties, and while she hadn't aged much since, she can still remember the horrible fashion and styles. surely the sixties couldn't be that bad comparatively, though she didn't see herself bothering to find out. )
It was 2014. Quite different from the sixties, I'm sure. Less mod and mashed potato, yet we made our strides elsewhere. ( for example, women's clothing. men's clothing, too, he seems like a man that might appreciate that. she can tell he's watching her as she moves, so she does her best to make a show for him, subtle movements as she leans over the stove and finds a spoon to sample his wine sauce with. she sucks the metal clean and pauses to consider. ) Not bad. ( that's a hell of a compliment from Regina, actually. )
no subject
The eighties. Well, that's certainly curious. The fact that she remembers the eighties so fondly and yet she's from 2014. That's definitely not something he saw coming. Then again he did meet two aliens so he's pretty sure that's in the realm of possibilities. He's always been better at going with strange things. Illya on the other hand might be having a fit right now. He does miss that big lunk. ]
If I go home live it out I likely won't be able to enjoy it. [ That's a morbid thought. He frowns a little and shakes his head. ] Not bad huh? [ He puts his glass down and steps over towards Regina. Enjoying the very vivid mental imagery of her sucking that metal so clean. ] Are you hungry? Or should I start with the massage first?
no subject
( poor suffragettes, worked so hard for an equality that still hasn't been realized. still, that's a political conversation and politics are far from on her mind tonight. she abandons the tasting spoon as he moves closer, tilting her head slightly to look him in the eye. oh, right, he'd been on about a massage, hadn't he? )
This isn't a nude massage, is it? ( she inquired, managing a smirk that implied she'd probably take her clothes off if he indicated it was, but good luck getting to dinner if she's naked, Solo. she'll have you before you finish even half of the rubdown, she can tell just by the way he's watching her, and she's always enthralled when she has someone caught in her web. ) Massage first, I suppose. I do cary a lot of tension here. ( she rubs the line of her neck, though her fingers run the gambit and trail down her throat and the impressive swell of her cleavage as he watches. )