8th Devotion: It's not what it looks like! Or: This is a curse?

[favoritetraitor]

[Accidental video]

[A book falls noisily to the floor. Solomon is seated on the couch of his apartment, the hand that had previously been holding his book empty. His eyes are wide, staring down at a scantily clad teen-aged girl wearing what appears to be a playboy bunny outfit. One who just happens to be curled up sleeping with her head nestled on his lap. He remains frozen, staring down in mute astonishment at the girl as the minutes pass by. Swallowing hard, his eyes move down her shapely form, brows furrowing as he realizes that his other arm is laying across her shoulders and down her front. He attempts to move his right hand from around her, but is only greeted with the horrifying realization that his wrist seems to be attached by handcuffs to the girl's left hand (which is still curled up under her body).]

..............................!?!


((ooc: Solomon has been struck down with another curse. This time, it's the dreaded handcuff curse. Joining him for today's torture is Mikuru Asahina.))

Comments

[skipthroughtime.livejournal.com]

[From the city...? Mikuru didn't think anyone who was here was originally from this place. At least she hadn't met anyone who had been born here.]

You mean from the city...? Have you met natives to this time plane and place...? I haven't met anyone like that...

[favoritetraitor.livejournal.com]

Ah, I'm new here.

[He pauses, the smile on his face, not quite matching an unease in his eyes.}

Miss Asahina... may I ask you a question...?

[skipthroughtime.livejournal.com]

Yes...?

[favoritetraitor.livejournal.com]

Ah... how do I say this?

[He pauses, unsure of how to approach the topic while still remaining polite.]

Your clothing...

[He gestures feebly at her little outfit.]

...aren't you a little young to be a hostess?