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[vecna]

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[vecna]

[He scoffs.]

The other options were sandcastles and dolphins. I wasn’t exactly spoiled for choice.

[velluminous]

[ quietly, while she works, ] Not one of those who embraces whimsy as part of his career, then?

[vecna]

My uniform was all white.

[If they are referring to his previous """career""".]

No bright prints or loud colors for me, or anyone else.

[velluminous]

Hm. How terrifically boring. [ she has most of a sleeve dry now ] Clothing is self-expression.

[vecna]

[There wasn’t a lot of self-expression allotted to him — like, ever.]

And what does “pink seashells” express?

[velluminous]

Lack of better choice, sounds like.

[ hands him his shirt. it's still kind of damp. ]

[vecna]

[Well, it’s better than nothing. He thumbs it to test its dampness, seems to consider it Fine, and begins to slip it on. Now he can wear a button-down shirt and swim trunks.]

Believe it or not, I’ve never really had an eye for fashion.

[BELIEVE IT OR NOT, he says, dressed like his.]

[velluminous]

[ you've activated her. she watches him dress, or at. least she's looking at him while he pulls the shirt on, but there's a sense she's sort of elsewhere in her head. ]

You would suit waistcoat.

[vecna]

[Buttoning up, one at a time—]

A waistcoat? I’ve never had the pleasure.

[He really hasn’t.]

What color? And don't say turquoise.

[velluminous]

What colours do you like? I would say perhaps emerald green.

[ she's wearing emerald green. ]

[vecna]

[Uh-huh, wondering if that’s just her own preference to ignore the fact that— he isn’t sure what colors he likes. What does something like that matter to him, anymore?]

Blue, to match my eyes.

[One of his eyes.]

[velluminous]

[ her dark lips twitch in half a smile ]

Haah. Your eye is turquoise.

[vecna]

[Wow. He scoffs a light, half-laugh.]

No. Turquoise is blue and green.

[velluminous]

Ahhh, he emerges. [ she may have a very specific idea of exactly what kind of work he did with the children in the lab. ] In that case--blue waistcoast... pair with brown button-down, these trousers...

[ she conjures a skeletal Mage Hand, which drifts up and artfully coils a lock of his drying hair. ]

Looking like gentleman in no time.

[vecna]

[He has a hard time imagining it, himself. The clothes he requested from the suggestion box were dark colored if plain; certainly with the desire to look presentable, but gentlemanly?

A glance askew to that skeletal, magical hand.]

And the hair?

[Since that, too, is being taken into consideration, apparently.]

[velluminous]

Hair is already good.

[vecna]

What happened to, and I quote, my “stupid coiffed head”?

[velluminous]

[ you didn't have to quote.

glances away, tensing her mouth ]

I did not mean it.

[vecna]

I’m teasing.

[Even if it’s second nature to dredge up discomfort, like breathing.]

I have thicker skin than you think.

[Now that his ensemble is very mismatched, he dips down to pick up his soggy trousers, holding them out.]

Do these get the magic treatment, too, or are you really going to suffer these swim trunks?

[velluminous]

[ she'll start work on those next, without argument. embarrassment and worry and maybe the vestigial haunting of her conversation with Wei Wuxian have made her agreeable ]

Does not mean I should go needling at it as I do.

[vecna]

I did just throw you into the water. Accidentally, but even so.

[Watches her work again, until his eyes drift over and away to the surfboards lined up against the wall. Such bright colors, summer-like. The conversation officially skews casual.]

Next time, we’ll practice farther away from the shoreline.

[velluminous]

Mm. Perhaps beach is not best place for this. Too much sensory interference. Somewhere quieter, I think.

[ you know, like a sensory deprivation tank? I'm kidding. ]

... it could be more. enjoyable, hm. Being tossed into water. If weather were better and we both meant for it.

[vecna]

[Sensory deprivation tank? Those are for scrubs only.

The mental image of her careening into the water for fun is a strange one. Doubly for himself. But Henry reaches out, dislodging a red surfboard on the wall with his powers, letting it fall straight into his hands with noticeable heft.

(Really, he just wanted to pull something heavy down.)

He quirks a brow at her, though.]

What about one of these?

[velluminous]

[ what are you, a cat knocking glasses off the counter? ]

I do not know what that is.

[vecna]

[Henry is not accepting any non-spider animal-related metaphors at this time.]

It’s a surfboard. You take it out onto the ocean and use it to ride any waves that come in.

It’s stereotypically a summertime activity.