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| London is For Lovers; Dannykins | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Dec 27 2007, 11:15 PM (425 Views) | |
| Monica Henson | Dec 27 2007, 11:15 PM Post #1 |
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"I need to talk to you," was what he'd said. Of course, he had sounded sweet, if not nervous, but still... That had never sounded good to Monica. In all of the movies, in all of the televisions shows, the novels, and even most of reality, that phrase was never good. What did I do wrong? I mean, things got rocky at the Art Show, but I thought we made up! I... I don't want to have to live without him! It was true. The beautiful painter had gotten so used, maybe too used, to Danny in her life. They'd met by chance, well, sort of, and Monica felt that even if their relationship had gotten rough at points, it had gone well. It was more than love to Monica. That seemed to be an odd phrase. People seemed to think falling in love was the strongest thing in the world. They thought love and passion were the most you could get in a relationship. Monica knew this wasn't so. What she felt for Danny was so much more. True, her heart tried to jump out of her chest when he smiled, or when they sat around talking and sipping tea. She practically died when they kissed, and just the thought of being near him could send her into shivers, but oh! It was so much more than that! Truthfully, she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him. He'd taken her at her worse, a broken window shattered and lying on the floor, and he'd made her into something beautiful again. Anyone could tell how different she was being. Jenna had commented how much more alive her eyes seemed, how she was so much more radiant now. Her skin glowed, her hair shined, and she was falling over herself, so completely in... something with Danny. True, she was in love, but she was also in care, in faith, in something with Danny. She couldn't even describe how much he meant to her. So, it was pretty disastorous when she realized he might not actually feel the same. The stone eyed painted had been devestated, and felt like she was preparing for their last date. The voices in her head were arguing on whether or not the date was a good thing. On the phone, he'd seemed happy, but nervous. Maybe he was only faking the happiness. Doubt and grief were already taking over her mind. Oh God! He's going to leave me again, with the ghosts of my past. No, No, he can't! How can he leave me, with all we've been through, the painter thought, on the verge of tears. Still, something stronger made Monica pull through. She'd been fixed once, and a large part of her brain was better now. She believed she could go through anything. If this was going to be her last date with Danny, then she sure as hell was going to look her best. Something like this would not get her down! So, she'd dressed to her best. After all, they were going to Finesse. And, as normal, the paparazzi would likely follow them till they got inside. The witch felt the need to look her best, both for Danny, and for the media itself. So, she'd pulled out her wardrobe and started to work. First was the dress. It was long and romantically dusty light blush pink. It complemented her skin perfectly. She pulled out a pair silver high heels as well, and a nice little silver bracelet. Her makeup was light, but startling beautiful as always. The lightest blue eyeshadow, mascara making her long, luscious eyelashes even longer and darker. Her lipstick was pale pink, matching the dress. Her blush was faint, but there, adding to her healthy look. She then got to her long, rich, dark brown hair. Slowly, she let it down from it's place in her braid. She brushed it carefully and gently put in something she hadn't worn in well, forever. She'd had it since her younger years at Hogwarts, when Yew had made it with her spells. It covered her whole head, though it was fairly invisible. The cloth truly was invisible, except for the tiny silver jewels, which shown in her hair. It kept her hair in a straight wave on her head, and it sparkled beautifully, like the stars in the midnight sky. "I'm ready," she told herself, and nodded as if to confirm it when something sparkled in her jewelry box, as if waiting to be taken out. She gasped, pulling out the small piece of jewelry and holding it tenderly. It was an old necklace, but it was strong. Made of silver, it sparkled like a diamond in the light. It's chain was a little tarnished from it's extensive wear. Monica hadn't worn it since, well, since her mother had died. Somehow, she'd never had a reason to have a promise since then. It was her crescent moon necklace. She had the other one as well, her mother had wanted her to keep it as well. You could hook the two together and make the image of a full moon. Monica looked at her necklace though, and calmly put it around her neck. It was about time she started keeping her promises. She arrived at the Finesse a few minutes later, finally having got a hang of apperation. Sighing, she calmed her heart. After all, she didn't know why he was so nervous sounding. It could be anything. After finding her necklace, Monica felt hope. And as she watched Danny walk toward her, one last thought flittered through her brain hopefully. Maybe London is for Lovers afterall. |
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| Danny Zaerr | Dec 28 2007, 02:51 PM Post #2 |
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"What are these?" the old man asked, picking the manilla envelope up off the table and turning it over in his hands. "Pictures." "Of?" He opened the flap and pulled the small stack out, beginning to go through them. His eyebrow raised inquisitively. "The girl I want to marry." The man froze. His hands lowered slowly, putting the pictures back on the table, then he looked at his son. "What's her name?" "Monica." "Do you love her?" "Yes." He paused, thinking. His eyes looked his son over, in a completely different light than they ever had before. "Do you love her enough to spend eternity with her?" Danny hesitated, then smiled. "Yeah, Dad. I do." His fingers ran over the edges of the traditional black velvet box once again, while his mind ran over its contents obsessively. The ring, a slender band of gold topped with the moderately sized diamond, and rimmed on either side with a pattern of a little ruby, small diamond, and another ruby. Sitting just beneath the ring would be the little embroidered piece of white cloth, folded into a neat square. The words that Danny had picked himself were stitched in red across it, with a tiny golden heart as the signature. It was intended, in every way, to match the ring; to complete the ring. He went over the words in his head again, trying to find any flaw in them before Monica would, although it was more than too late to fix it now, if he did discover an error. Diamonds, to say that you are the most precious thing in the world to me, Danny thought; he had the entire thing memorized, and had for weeks. Rubies, to symbolize true love, passion that will never die, and gold, which has gone through the fire, and emerged even more beautiful than before. It rubies were slightly unorthodox, but he was hoping she liked them. God, let her like it. His mind was bursting with a thousand what-ifs, What if she thought it was stupid, what if she laughed at him, what if the food made her choke, what if the paparazzi showed up, despite his false tip to them that she would be on the other edge of town? He had been going through the 'What-ifs' all week. It was self-destructive, and he kept telling himself to stop over thinking the matter, but then another troublesome What-if would pop into his head. There was one What-if, though, that, when it presented itself, dispelled all the butterflies in his stomach, and made him determine to press on, no matter what. What if she says yes? If Monica said yes, if she took the ring, if she put it on her finger--it would all be worth it. Emptying out his entire savings account would be worth it. Having other people remind him to eat, because he had been so nervous himself that he'd forgotten, would be worth it. All the nervousness, all the mind-racking things up until this day, would be worth it. Danny knew he'd sounded worried on the phone. He'd been sounding worried all week, and everyone had commented on it; his father, Lily, his boss, his sister, his landlord, his neighbor, the Dunn Brothers barista who made him is coffee in the mornings. He could only hope Monica hadn't picked up on too much of it. He wondered if she'd guessed what he had planned for tonight. He hoped she hadn't, although he couldn't have said why. After all, he'd never done something like this before, and he wasn't sure if the element of surprise was more or less likely to make things go in his favor. He arrived at Finesse almost a half hour before the time he'd reserved, in his eagerness not to be late, and he'd made a reservation fifteen minutes before the time he'd told Monica over the phone. He wanted everything to be absolutely perfect by the time she arrived. He'd borrowed a seldom-worn suit from his father, which fit him almost better than his own suit did. He hadn't really had occasion to wear his suit since his mother's funeral, but even so it was worn and unimpressive by now. This one was much better; his sister had used the word sharp to describe how he looked when he was trying it on at his father's place. He hoped Monica thought the same. Danny's father had tried to insist on a haircut, but Danny refused. Monica liked his hair, she'd said so, and he didn't want to risk letting a beautician cut it too short. His stomach was glittering now, and his face was caught between a hopeful smile and a worried frown, an odd expression indeed. There was a bounce to his set, but he was pacing; a sparkle in his eye, although he shook his head slowly. He looked at his watch at least three times every minute, until, finally, it was time. After making absolutely sure that the table was exactly how he wanted it, Danny reported to the lobby, to wait for Monica's arrival. It caused no stir at all when she Apparated into the middle of the place, but upon seeing her, Danny's breath caught in his throat. She looked so beautiful--the jewels somehow suspended in her hair, coupled with her radiant dress, made her look as if she had just stepped out of a dream, and a very good dream at that. Suddenly worry was gnawing at his insides worse than it ever had been before, which, until now, Danny wouldn't have thought possible. "Monica," he managed to breath as he took a few steps towards her. "You look--gorgeous." Taking her hand, he pulled her a little closer to himself, and innocently kissed her cheek. As he pulled away, he was lost momentarily in just looking at her, how spectacularly perfect she looked. With a slight smile, he pulled himself back into reality. "Our table's just over here," he said, leading her into the restaurant. |
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| Monica Henson | Dec 29 2007, 11:51 AM Post #3 |
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The first thing she noticed about Danny was how dressed up he'd gotten. Now, this wasn't to say that he normally looked like a slob, but he was in a suit! Normally, he just wore a nice pair of jeans and a nice shirt. Monica had to smile when she saw him in such a nice... outfit. He was stunningly handsome, and Monica just had to smile. Everything about Danny seemed to make her smile. As well, all of her fears had left her. She must've been mistaken, no one got dressed up to dump their date! As well, he looked so happy to see her, nervous, but happy. Maybe he wanted to tell her he'd gotten a new job? Or maybe he was adopting a puppy? Oh, that'd be so adorable! Danny did in fact remind her of a puppy sometimes, afterall. "Monica," he said,"You look--gorgeous." Monica blushed a little bit, but grinned none the less. She'd never really gotten used to his compliments. Sure, she was told she was gorgeous before, but it meant so much more coming from Danny. She couldn't help but feel shy and a little embarassed around him when he complimented her. Paparazzi never made her feel good, but when Danny said things, her whole day brightened up a little bit. When Danny said those things, she believed them. "Right back at you, handsome," she giggled and batted her eyelashes jokingly, grinning happily. She blushed again when he kissed her on the cheek. What could she say, everything he did made her embarassed; happy, but embarassed. She took his arm as he led her to the table, and sat down when a waiter pulled out her chair. She smiled again at Danny, for a moment, just gazing at him. He was so...perfect! His fluffy brown hair, his gorgeous pools of chocolate eyes. He was taller than her by a few inches, a feat not many could brag about. He was just... adorable, attentive, caring, wonderful, amazing... She wouldn't mind staring at him forever. She wished she could. It was just so... weird. Monica had never had the best luck with, well, anything. She'd fallen in love before, and all she'd been was hurt. The one man she had loved was taken by her best friend, who she then fought with. All of her relationships had become estranged and messed up, aside from a select few, and yet, she still tried. Sure, things always seemed to go wrong, and sometimes she lost her way, but she always seemed to try, even when she felt so broken. But this time, she didn't even seem to have to try all that much. This time, she felt like he really did love her. If anyone could fix a broken soul, it was Danny. He was just so loving, it was impossible to be down on yourself. And yet, in some ways, he reminded her of... Alex. Sort of, sometimes. As Alex had, they could talk for hours on the phone. He'd come over to her house and they'd just joke around. He was her best friend, like Alex had been. He was strong and loyal, like Alex. He was beautiful, like Alex had been... But, somehow, he was so much more, too. He never wanted to hurt her, had never hurt her, and that was something Alex would never be. It was odd, too, how similar they were, while their backrounds had been so different. Danny acted how Alex had before things had gone wrong, but Danny had been in Slytherin. Alex... somehow, Monica felt like Alex was the true Slytherin. Her opinion could've been biased though, just a bit. The weird thing was, though, that she'd never really compared them all that much. True, she'd compared maybe once or twice, but after that, she'd kind of just... forgotten about Alex. She was so wrapped up in Danny, so completely in love. Finally, it seemed, she could be free of her past. She could live in the present now, and she could finally have hope for the future. Hope, something she hadn't had for, well, a while. She was finally free, running with the wild horses, flying with the other birds. "So, what's the occasion?" she asked, grinning and tilting her head to the side inquisitively, her eyes dreamy and a little bit caught up with Danny's brown ones. Love, she decided, was amazing . |
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| Danny Zaerr | Jan 25 2008, 02:01 PM Post #4 |
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It was astounding to Danny that after all this time, these months of dating him, he could still make Monica blush with a compliment. She must have heard such things over and over again; he surely wasn't the only one who'd noticed her profound beauty. The newspapers, magazines, and tabloids had been remarking on the fact for years. It didn't even count so much as a compliment, nowadays, but more of a statement of the obvious truth. "Right back at you, handsome," she said with a giggle, a giggle that set the butterflies in Danny's stomach on a frenzy, much like the effect the noise of an approaching bat might have had on a cluster of moths. He tried desperately to quell them, but knew from the heat that his ears had started turning red, like they always did when he was nervous or embarrassed. When he pulled away from the soft peck he'd placed on her cheek, he noticed a graceful shade of maroon brushed up against the perfect pallor of her cheeks--she was blushing. So they'd both embarrassed each other, in turn. They were a better match than Danny could've thought. Of course, Danny didn't see any similarities between the two at all. She was beautiful, talented, motivated, dedicated, in a word, perfect. On the other hand, there was him; boring and lazy, mediocre at his mediocre life. How he could ever manage to make her blush, unless it was through shame of being caught with him, he'd never know. They reached the table, and a waiter pulled out Monica's chair for her. It was something that, by all rights, he, as her date, should have done, and Danny bit his lip as he sat down. It wasn't any lack of manners on his part, he reasoned. It was just a nice restaurant. The waiters did that for every girl. After filling their water glasses with liquid so clear it seemed to sparkle, the greeter bowed to them both and drifted back to the lobby, assuring them that their server would be with them shortly. As soon as they were free from restaurant staff, and it was once again only Monica and Danny, she tilted her head and inquired happily, "So, what's the occasion?" "Oh, uh, you know. Nothing too special," he said, struggling to find a convincing answer. He wasn't ready to tell her anything yet, although she was obviously curious. It was definitely a far cry from their normally casual relationship, but by the end of the night, she'd know what all the fuss was about. He met her eyes, and the nervous beat that had been clawing at his stomach for the past week seemed to climb up into his throat, making speech impossible. He couldn't move, he couldn't think; he simply looked at her, her stone grey eyes, a smile tainting his face. Then, unable to look at her any longer without fearing awkwardness, he cast his eyes down at the table. An intricately folded napkin lay across his plate, with a silver napkin ring in the center. His mind on other things entirely, Danny propped his chin up with one hand, and used a finger on the other to turn the expensive holder in a slow, uneven circle around the deep auburn cloth. It took a moment for his mind to gain enough strength to dispel the beast lodging itself in his throat, and even longer for Danny, on pins and needles, to find the right wording for what he wanted to say, how he wanted to begin. Finally, he shifted his weight, putting on hand on the arm of his chair and extending the other out to her along the tablecloth. "Monica, I--" he began, but was cut off immediately by the arrival of their server, dressed in fancy coat and tails. He retracted his arm, and sat like a scolded child with his hands in his lap, eyes glued to the interrupting waiter. "Good evening, Madamoiselle, Monseuir. I shall be serving you on this fine night--my name is Battron." At this point, he offered menus to the couple, first to Monica, then to Danny. Danny took his and set it over his plate, his eyes locked instead on it for the remainder of Battron's short speech, involving the usual hospitable offer of answering any questions and seeing to any need they might have. The waiter paced away, and Danny cleared his throat and unfolded the menu. Whatever confidence he'd had before the interruption was gone again, and instead of trying to start over, he read the top few items on the menu over and over again, without really seeing or comprehending any of them. Occasionally he would wager a glance at Monica, before diverting his eyes back down to his menu. After a moment of quiet, he seemed to give up on deciphering those squiggly marks on the paper he would have once perceived as letters, and set the menu down on his plate once again. "Do you know what you're getting?" he asked conversationally, looking up at his beloved Monica once again. |
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| Monica Henson | Mar 16 2008, 01:53 PM Post #5 |
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Monica smiled a slow, graceful smile, just for the heck of everything. There was Danny, blushing with the same blush that held her face. Everything about them was so... so similar. They were both beautiful, both dedicated, both kind... loving, happy... trusting. Monica sighed happily. Obviously, they were perfect together, perfect for one another. This had to be the beginning of her happy ending. Completely at ease in the fancy resteraunt, she walked carefully with Danny to their table. Danny, though, seemed figety, and Monica worried that maybe they shouldn't have gone somewhere so fancy. Their relationship was casual. Danny would come over and they would watch old movies, Monica in her sweats, Danny in casual clothes. He would watch her paint, or she would explain the meaning of her pictures to him. Sometimes they'd go out to get fast-food, or to a casual diner for a milkshake and fries. Monica secretly loved fried food, it was Sooooo Good. Of course, she couldn't eat a whole lot of it anymore, but that wasn't the point. Still, they had fun, laughing and teasing eachother. Monica felt like with Danny, she could be innocent and childish. She felt like a teenager again. She could forget her history. She and Danny, they had no history, only a future. It was a fresh slate, a blank canvas. It was one of the reasons Monica loved him. Still... sometimes she'd look up at him and instead of seeing those warm, dark brown eyes, she'd see lighter, colder ones. She'd see eyes with something fiercer behind them, something wild and independent. Sometimes she'd look at Danny and instead, see a different boy. She'd see a boy who teased her, but differently. She'd see a boy who fiercly protected her. She'd see a boy who hurt her... and for some reason, she felt something deeper than love for him. Sometimes, she looked at Danny and saw someone else... someone who she didn't just love, but had passion for. And she hated herself for it. She had all she could ever want in Danny, but she still wanted something more. A part of her, a large part, she admitted, wanted something... someone else. A large part of her wanted, longed for, hurt for, someone she couldn't, wouldn't ever have. So she pretended that part of her didn't exsist, because it made her feel selfish and horrible. Danny took her hand and appeared to want to say something, but was interrupted by their waiter. Monica offered him an apologetic grin and turned to the waiter. She took her menu with ease from the waiter, offering him a gorgeous smile and a thankyou. It was a good thing to be polite to waiters, or they were liable to do strange things with your food, or report your rudeness to the media. Carefully skimming the food, which seemed to be in French or maybe Italian, languages at least she was lightly familiar with, she picked out a simple alfredo dish. She really couldn't read all of it, so she'd just picked out simple words she recognised. "I think I'm going to get the Alfredo Noodles... I can't really read most of it, so I'll probably end up with cow tounge," she giggled, wondering if she sounded foolish and if Danny could read it too. "Danny, why couldn't you have a cool name with Battron?" Monica asked, teasing both him and their waiter quietly. Her eyes sparkled with merriment and amusement. She liked their light, happy relationship, and remained oblivious to Danny's obvious discomfort. |
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| Danny Zaerr | Apr 6 2008, 06:26 PM Post #6 |
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OOC: I was confused. So I just wrote stuff. Hope you like. "I think I'm going to get the Alfredo Noodles..." she began, and the waiter, reappearing from absolutely nowhere, removed a thin leather book, in which he wrote down her order. "I can't really read most of it, so I'll probably end up with cow tongue." This was followed by a musical giggle that drew Danny's eyes, and he was struck again by how incredibly beautiful she was. It was almost breathtaking. Everything about her just seemed to fit perfectly with everything else; even down to that light, happy laugh that sent an inestimably small shiver of delight down his spine. Her playful eyes found his, and she spoke again: "Danny, why couldn't you have a cool name with Battron?" Danny blushed, his cheeks turning cherry-apple red. He could feel the heat on his face, and cursed himself for it, but was powerless to stop it. His whole face seemed to burn as if ignited by some imaginary candle, or perhaps a secret jinx, and took every opportunity to explode in inner flames. His mouth felt as if he'd just eaten a whole box of ton-tongue toffee, and he therefore couldn't have answered Monica even if he wanted to. His eyes seemed to have little weights attached to them; his gaze sank constantly to the soft white of the table cloth. "I'll have the same," he muttered to the waiter, sticking his menu out without looking at either of the two. The waiter didn't say anything, but he must have nodded or something dignified and polite like that, because after securing Monica's menu, he turned and left without another word. Danny's hands found the glass of ice water sitting at the top of his plate, and he drug the cool cup closer to him, watching the melting ice swish across the surface of the clear liquid beneath. After a moment's thought, he raised the glass to drink, and in doing so caught a glimpse of Monica at the other end of the table. Blushing slightly again, he put the glass down, his eyes following it a second behind and an expression on his face like that of a child who has been caught sneaking food before dinner. He tilted the glass a bit, making the ice bob once again in a quick circle, then set it aright and just looked at the reflection of the lights gleaming in the smooth surfaces. With a sort of sigh, Danny looked up at Monica once again. Talk to her, the reasonable part of his mind urged. You'll never be able to ask her if you can't even talk to her. She probably thinks you're the biggest idiot in the world right now. Say something! Shifting his weight slightly in his chair, Danny moved his glass of water back to the top of his plate where it belonged, his hand finding a new thing to toy with; the edge of the carefully folded napkin. "Monica, we've--uh--we've been dating a while now." He tried to force his eyes up to her, but could only manage a quick glance before he cast his eyes back at the napkin with a flush. "We've been dating a while, and it's been really fun, you know, it's been one of the greatest times of my whole life. I just--I think maybe--" And that was it; his resolve, all the courage he'd worked up to get this far, fled for some absolutely unknown reason. Frustrated with himself, he stopped fiddling with the edge of his napkin to rub at his eye in irritation. With a brief shrug of his shoulders, he began more quickly, "You know, I'm sorry, Monica, I don't know what's wrong with me. I thought about this conversation beforehand, I have absolutely no idea why--I--I guess it's just not as easy as I thought it'd be." He cast a glance up at her. She hadn't left the table in outrage, and she wasn't staring off into the ceiling, completely and utterly bored, so he supposed that was a good sign. Gathering his breath, he paused a moment and began again. "We've been dating a while now, and it's been fun, it's really been great, it's just--" "It is her, I knew it was! It's Monica--Miss Henson! Miss Henson!" Danny blushed again at this completely unwelcome interruption, and began to glare steadily at his plate as a middle-aged woman tentatively approached the table, dragging her husband behind her. They had a distinctly middle-class look to them, although they were obviously dressed up in the finest--Danny would have pegged them as a married couple who wanted to jazz things up for their anniversary. "Miss Henson, I'm sorry to bother you like this, but I'm a huge fan. I absolutely adore your work--especially the tigress series you did not too long ago. Your model for those must be absolutely gorgeous. We can't afford the real pictures, you know, but I have a least a half-dozen prints of your stuff around the house--isn't that right, Paul?" Paul, apparently the name of the man by her side, gave a noncommittal grunt, followed by a nod. The woman was all smiles as she insisted that Monica was 'the most amazing painter in all of England,' as well as 'so beautiful, even at that stage'--that stage, of course, referring to Monica's slightly rounded belly, half-hidden beneath the table. "I just--oh, I know you must get this all the time, absolutely all the time, but--could I perhaps get a picture with you?" She turned to look at Paul, who, apparently realizing that this was his cue, disappeared in the direction of their table, and returned a moment later with a dusty old camera that had probably seen more of the inside of a bag than it had of actual faces or places. "I just knew this old thing would come in handy sometime, it's a good thing we decided to take it tonight, isn't it, Paul?" Deciding to once again return to the world of the living, Danny stood and reached his hand out for the camera; it was that sight alone that had snapped him out of his reverie and made him break his staring contest with the plate. "May I?" he asked conversationally, and Paul, looking slightly bewildered, handed the thing over to him. It was an old Kodak, a muggle device magically altered to accept the proper film for rendering moving pictures. It had a large lense and several zooms, all of which snapped to life as Danny pressed and held the "on" button. Professionally it wouldn't do much, but for a civilian camera it wasn't bad at all, and Danny said as much. "I can take the picture," he volunteered, and the woman thanked him, saying he was a 'darling boy, absolutely charming.' Danny smiled, without any real cheer, then cast a glance over at Monica. "As long as you're alright with it." OOC: I was trying to make it easy for Mon to think he was going to break up with her. ^^;; Poor Danny has the best intentions, but he can get a bit tongue-tied. Anyway, take that as you will. |
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