laytondressing | Homesick

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Homesick

[Descole doesn't trust himself. He is classified a villain and knows it well. But he is not a sociopath. He has feelings like most human beings and he can't help but feel trapped in such a place. So he walks out to the lobby, where he finds a lot of people generally hang out, and he crosses his arms in front of the room.]

Alright! I am DYING of boredom and I miss my servants! Some one come entertain me, before I kill something!

[So it wasn't very delicate, but at least he got his point across.]

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[...oh, god, it's him again. Clive's just going to be making an effort to sneak past without being spotted, but given the bright yellow jacket that's not really likely to work.]

[On impulse, Descole pulls his hat off his head and throws it directly at Clive.]

Hey, Mascara. Where are you going?

[Clive lets out a noise that's embarrassingly close to a yelp, grabbing the hat.]

Well, I was trying to get away from you.

[This point would be better demonstrated with actions, she thinks, so she tosses Descole's hat onto the floor and puts her boot on it.]

I hope you didn't think you were going to get that back, Jean.

I probably should have thought about that before I threw it.

[He walked up to him and laughed at the height difference.]

You know, I could push you over and take it back?

Or I could just kick you in the crotch.

Which I'll definitely do if you push me over, so there's that.

[He puts his arms out as if he's weighing his options.]

Why do you dislike me so? You know, I quite like you. There's no need to be so disdainful.

I dislike you because you're an arse. You're condescending, you insult me, and you call me Mascara. Ugh. If this is how you treat the people you like, I'd hate to see how you treat someone you don't like.

[He gave a low laugh and shook his head.]

That's not very lady-like of you. Hasn't Hershel taught you better?

[He's condescending and he knows it. Poor poor Clive...]

Ugh. Why should I be ladylike? You know as well as I am that I'm not a lady.

["Poor poor Clive" is going to be grinding her foot down on Descole's hat. She's about a minute away from giving in and trying to kick him in the crotch like she said, too.]

I know, I know. You certainly make a good one.

[Moving back away from his foot, obviously about ready to kick up, he smiled.]

What happened in your life that compels you to dress like a woman? That's what I want to know. Did you know sexual trauma as a child sometimes springs people into crossdressing? I read a book on it once.

Ugh! There was no sexual trauma in my childhood, what the hell is even wrong with you? You don't just say things like that to people.

Nothing happened to make me dress like this, either, it was just the best disguise that nobody would connect with who I really am, even the people who knew me well.

Ugh! Nothing is wrong with me! I'm just still angry at your for making gay quips at me and my outfit!

So no! I shan't stop!

[Descole is rather good at holding grudges.]

You told me I looked like I'd come from a drag brothel, how is that any better?

And, really, you shan't? How old are you, five?

You need to watch who you're talking to because I am not far beyond hitting a girl.

And you're so annoying! Ugh! Go put on some more make up and stand on the cornee!

[Even though Descole looked and sounded angry, it was nice to get in a fight in this unfamiliar place.]

I'm so annoying? Like you can talk! You're infuriating!

[The worst part is, Clive kind of enjoys stupid fights like this. She doesn't get to let down her hair like this often, to yell and stamp and be as childish as ridiculous as she likes, and it's almost therapeutic in an odd way. Well. She stamps on his hat again, ducking her head to hide her face.]

[Of course, Descole won't be the first to end the fight. He's enjoying it too much.]

You're the one who called my outfit campy! And could you stop doing that to my hat, Mascara! I'm going to take your wallet and make you buy me a new one.

[Like Descole needed anymore money...]

There's a difference between calling your outfit campy and you saying I look like a whore, Jean! And no, it's your fault for throwing it at me. It's mine, now.

[She bends down to pick it back up, clutching it to her chest for a moment, then shakes it out and puts it on her own head.]

Well, what do you think? I'm sure you probably pull it off better, but that doesn't mean you're having it back.

Campy and whore are both insults in my mind!

[He shrugs at it on his head.]

Eh, it's not bad. You have a good figure for it.

[Clive grins a little despite herself.]

You know that half of my figure is fake, right?

You mean like the breasts?

I hate to say it that it looks good on a feminine body. Dammit.

Oh, yes, because you're so masculine yourself!

[She doesn't sound pissed off this time, though. Just calling him girly isn't an insult, in her mind. Hell, it's practically a compliment.]

[He laughs, knowing its true.]

Then I suppose it works as well for both of us, huh?

It's a shame you're not getting it back then, hmm?

[She snorts.]

God, I can just about stand you right now. Maybe it's something about the hat.

Yeah it's the hat. The hat sort of gives you some sort of extra power.

Or maybe we screamed it out at each other.

[He starts laughing.]

[Snorting, Clive reaches up to pull the hat off and put it under her arm, careful not to catch the wig as she's removing it.]

Well, hmm, this is practically a Christmas gift. I should give you something in return. Maybe some makeup, since you seem so obsessed with mine.

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