vecna | reverie inbox.

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.

[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.]

Hair is already good.

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

[ you didn't have to quote.

glances away, tensing her mouth ]

I did not mean it.

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?

[ 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.

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.

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.

[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?

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

I do not know what that is.

[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.

[ skeptically, ] Hurmmm.

[ that's one pant leg mostly-dry ]

I am not sure.

[This is, in fact, a lopsided proposal, because there is absolutely no way he would even consider it for himself.]

Not feeling particularly adventurous?