I beg your pardon. When you wander around in shorts and little else, I don't know what you expect.
Besides. As I recall, you touched a bit yourself, once you were eased into it.
[Good grief, but her voice has dipped a little lower. They're not touching, though. Point in fact, Rosalind leans back, one arm bracing on the arm of the couch, her posture open and relaxed.
(Hypothesis: the hallucinations are triggered by a surge of chemicals in the brain; any kind of strong emotion will do. Anger and bitterness had been Ardyn's trigger; lust will be Eggsy's.
After all, what instinct is stronger than reproduction?)]
[ Ah, a hypothesis that would be correct for most young men, to be sure, but lust is something Eggsy has under control, unlike his temper and desire for sincere affection. He's never been without sexual relations, but he remains careful with them. He overthinks and over-cares about people. And Kingsman has taught him that intimacy, like anything else, can be used. He tracks her movements before shifting his gaze to his hands to adjust his sleeves. Rosalind really is pretty. ]
[ then, arching his brows. ] Mixing business and pleasure, huh?
[ because she's flirting again (and so is he), but it isn't the same, when he's here to test something, as he was throughout his time at Kingsman. This is serious. It requires his focus as much as marksmanship and skydiving. ]
[There's a flicker of . . . not annoyance, really, but uncertainty. It's a rare day when things don't go precisely as Madam Lutece had predicted they would, and while she might have expected this if she'd known about his real profession, surely a mere tailor isn't going to have that kind of mental fortitude?
Perhaps it's her. She thinks that without self-doubt or blame; perhaps it's simply that he doesn't have enough of an attraction to her. But he'd been fairly game before, and it wouldn't make sense that suddenly he'd lose that attraction.
Hm. She doesn't shift, not yet, but there's something a little more brisk in her expression.]
A rare occurrence nowadays, I assure you. Though it's been known to happen.
[ He settles his hands on his knees, carefully placed but not visibly taut. ]
Don't often get to do that at the shop.
[ which provides calming and boner-killing thoughts in spades. Folding trousers for hours, pricking his thumb with needles, standing at the till and talking to posh gits all too like Chester King and Charlie Hesketh. It doesn't suit him in the least, but he needs to learn. ]
[ neutrally — ] Figures your life would be more thrilling, Madam Lutece.
[This clearly isn't working, and now she sits up properly, her posture settling into her usual rigid stiffness. Gathering her hair up, she reaches to the side, groping for the comb there. No sense in keeping it down if there's no purpose.]
It has its high points. Though after all I've seen and done, I'm ready for a bit of stability.
[A beat, and then, bluntly:]
I won't, not while you're potentially under the influence. But do you want to kiss me? Or rather, I ought to say: do you have the desire to?
[What's the best way to solve a mystery? Just attacking it head on.]
[ the question makes him pause, brows arching instinctively in surprise. he admires the directness — finds it attractive, even, which isn't helpful given their present situation or the precise line of thought that he's trying to avoid. his eyes flicker from her hands, tracking the way her fingers twist her hair, to her face. ]
Uh, yeah. [ desire sounds either too clinical or too flowery, but the answer remains a yes. all the control in the world can't keep the stripe of pink from his cheeks. to compensate, his tone lilts back into teasing territory. ] Sorry, I meant to pass you a note saying so.
[ a variation on an old classic. do you want to kiss me? check yes or no. ]
[Well, that's at least nice to hear. Rosalind finishes putting her hair up, then tips her head at him.]
And yet somehow you're not hallucinating. But it's not a lack of lust halting you . . . and you've taken hallucinogens before, you said, so clearly they work on your physiology.
It surprises me you're not hallucinating me in nothing but my chemise, frankly.
[That's kind of dirty talk? Probably more on the realm of not, though (and for the record, she is pleasantly surprised he knows what physiology means). But she waves a hand, aware her own musings are more cryptic than helpful.]
My friend-- Alan, we'll call him, for the sake of privacy-- was both bitter and angry in our conversation, and he hallucinated something that infuriated him. He grew angrier, which fed into the hallucination, which made him even more upset . . . it became a self-sustaining cycle.
So. I wished to see if any strong emotion would trigger a hallucination. And there's fewer emotions stronger than lust-- it's why I wanted to run this with you, given our previous activities.
[Which sounds clinical, and is, a little. Her theory was that he'd have an easier time giving in to lust because he's proven he's attracted to her. But there's another meaning, which is: I wanted to run this with you because I don't want some stranger imagining me in such a state.]
[ It's not his Alan, obviously, but the name still earns a flicker of familiarity. So, he's a test subject booty call (the easiest person for the job, so to speak). He doesn't seem offended. On the contrary, his face splits into a sly smile. ]
Might be that I have a lid on my lust, [ great. lust sounds weird as hell when he says it, in his opinion. ] being used to a specific sort of communal living.
[ nonstop cohabitation in the barracks and dorms. not to mention, he couldn't exactly pop a stiffy every time someone pinned him on the mat. of course, it's more that he has control over most of his emotions, but that's a bit much to reveal casually. ]
Uh, well, I don't think I want to get hot for science.
[ not to mention, he doesn't know what he would, ah, hallucinate. he's not into anything weird, as far as he knows, but being vulnerable in that way doesn't exactly rev his engine. he clears his throat. ]
[She seems a little disappointed, but she won't force him into it. Rosalind shifts, crossing one leg over the other, and adds wryly:]
There's a joke to be made there about you and I, but I shan't make it.
[But then:]
Is there a reason you don't want Mr. DeVere to know what we're doing? I'll keep your secret regardless, but he seems reasonable enough, and this is hardly a dangerous experiment.
[ Eggsy smiles at her not-joke. Right-o, Madam. He doesn't hesitate to answer her question. ]
Well, it's just me and Henry from home, innit?
[ His features soften. Hard not to sound fond, when the topic shifts to Harry, despite their growing pains and lies wedged between them. ]
He worries about me enough as it is. [ Oh, and he's a spy who doesn't trust anyone with his real name, let alone his hand-picked Kingsman candidate. After a beat, Eggsy continues wryly — ] And I think anything with the word "experiment" in it would be extra concerning for him. That ain't exactly business as usual on Savile Row, yeah?
[ Definitely ribbing Ros for her blasé approach to experiments on people. ]
[ He thinks of how Bellamy responded to the mere mention of a drug test. Not well. Harry definitely would have asked him not to come, but Eggsy wouldn't put that down to viewing him as a child. ]
I don't think that's our problem, but I appreciate the diagnosis, Doc. [ well. ] Sorry, Madam.
[There's an odd little flicker of something in her gaze as he says doc and then corrects herself. You'd have to be looking closely to see it, because it lasts only a moment, but it's there.]
Suit yourself. I'm surprised you're taking it so well, though. [She's not lecturing, just talking.] I used to chafe under my mother's instruction, to the point where I learned to climb trees simply to escape her gaze.
I don't know about rebel-- not in the way you're thinking, anyway. But my mother had a precise vision for me, and I disagreed with that vision. And as I grew older, I found it easier to simply avoid engaging with her altogether.
University helped with both those endeavors, actually. She despised the thought of my attending, and yet being gone for most of the year perfectly aided my not speaking to her.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Besides. As I recall, you touched a bit yourself, once you were eased into it.
[Good grief, but her voice has dipped a little lower. They're not touching, though. Point in fact, Rosalind leans back, one arm bracing on the arm of the couch, her posture open and relaxed.
(Hypothesis: the hallucinations are triggered by a surge of chemicals in the brain; any kind of strong emotion will do. Anger and bitterness had been Ardyn's trigger; lust will be Eggsy's.
After all, what instinct is stronger than reproduction?)]
no subject
[ then, arching his brows. ] Mixing business and pleasure, huh?
[ because she's flirting again (and so is he), but it isn't the same, when he's here to test something, as he was throughout his time at Kingsman. This is serious. It requires his focus as much as marksmanship and skydiving. ]
no subject
Perhaps it's her. She thinks that without self-doubt or blame; perhaps it's simply that he doesn't have enough of an attraction to her. But he'd been fairly game before, and it wouldn't make sense that suddenly he'd lose that attraction.
Hm. She doesn't shift, not yet, but there's something a little more brisk in her expression.]
A rare occurrence nowadays, I assure you. Though it's been known to happen.
no subject
Don't often get to do that at the shop.
[ which provides calming and boner-killing thoughts in spades. Folding trousers for hours, pricking his thumb with needles, standing at the till and talking to posh gits all too like Chester King and Charlie Hesketh. It doesn't suit him in the least, but he needs to learn. ]
[ neutrally — ] Figures your life would be more thrilling, Madam Lutece.
no subject
It has its high points. Though after all I've seen and done, I'm ready for a bit of stability.
[A beat, and then, bluntly:]
I won't, not while you're potentially under the influence. But do you want to kiss me? Or rather, I ought to say: do you have the desire to?
[What's the best way to solve a mystery? Just attacking it head on.]
no subject
Uh, yeah. [ desire sounds either too clinical or too flowery, but the answer remains a yes. all the control in the world can't keep the stripe of pink from his cheeks. to compensate, his tone lilts back into teasing territory. ] Sorry, I meant to pass you a note saying so.
[ a variation on an old classic. do you want to kiss me? check yes or no. ]
no subject
And yet somehow you're not hallucinating. But it's not a lack of lust halting you . . . and you've taken hallucinogens before, you said, so clearly they work on your physiology.
no subject
Does it surprise you more that I know what physiology is, or that my physiology is definitely human?
[ if the latter is a concern for this... experiment ]
no subject
[That's kind of dirty talk? Probably more on the realm of not, though (and for the record, she is pleasantly surprised he knows what physiology means). But she waves a hand, aware her own musings are more cryptic than helpful.]
My friend-- Alan, we'll call him, for the sake of privacy-- was both bitter and angry in our conversation, and he hallucinated something that infuriated him. He grew angrier, which fed into the hallucination, which made him even more upset . . . it became a self-sustaining cycle.
So. I wished to see if any strong emotion would trigger a hallucination. And there's fewer emotions stronger than lust-- it's why I wanted to run this with you, given our previous activities.
[Which sounds clinical, and is, a little. Her theory was that he'd have an easier time giving in to lust because he's proven he's attracted to her. But there's another meaning, which is: I wanted to run this with you because I don't want some stranger imagining me in such a state.]
no subject
Might be that I have a lid on my lust, [ great. lust sounds weird as hell when he says it, in his opinion. ] being used to a specific sort of communal living.
[ nonstop cohabitation in the barracks and dorms. not to mention, he couldn't exactly pop a stiffy every time someone pinned him on the mat. of course, it's more that he has control over most of his emotions, but that's a bit much to reveal casually. ]
no subject
And if I were to ask you to let loose?
no subject
[ not to mention, he doesn't know what he would, ah, hallucinate. he's not into anything weird, as far as he knows, but being vulnerable in that way doesn't exactly rev his engine. he clears his throat. ]
Guess I'm old-fashioned that way.
no subject
All right.
[She seems a little disappointed, but she won't force him into it. Rosalind shifts, crossing one leg over the other, and adds wryly:]
There's a joke to be made there about you and I, but I shan't make it.
[But then:]
Is there a reason you don't want Mr. DeVere to know what we're doing? I'll keep your secret regardless, but he seems reasonable enough, and this is hardly a dangerous experiment.
no subject
Well, it's just me and Henry from home, innit?
[ His features soften. Hard not to sound fond, when the topic shifts to Harry, despite their growing pains and lies wedged between them. ]
He worries about me enough as it is. [ Oh, and he's a spy who doesn't trust anyone with his real name, let alone his hand-picked Kingsman candidate. After a beat, Eggsy continues wryly — ] And I think anything with the word "experiment" in it would be extra concerning for him. That ain't exactly business as usual on Savile Row, yeah?
[ Definitely ribbing Ros for her blasé approach to experiments on people. ]
no subject
Still. You might want to remind him you're not a child.
[Because that's. kind of overprotective for a tailor and his apprentice, it really is.]
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I don't think that's our problem, but I appreciate the diagnosis, Doc. [ well. ] Sorry,
Madam.
[ He shrugs. ]
I'm just picking my battles.
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Suit yourself. I'm surprised you're taking it so well, though. [She's not lecturing, just talking.] I used to chafe under my mother's instruction, to the point where I learned to climb trees simply to escape her gaze.
no subject
Well enough. [ he did hang up on harry... that one time... ANYWAY. ] Shut up! You were a rebel, huh?
no subject
University helped with both those endeavors, actually. She despised the thought of my attending, and yet being gone for most of the year perfectly aided my not speaking to her.