Princess Elspeth Annarose Cullen (
her_imperial_radiance) wrote2013-02-22 05:51 pm
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delicious bubbly
Elspeth is glad that Milliways likes her, because she likes it. Jacob at her side and a glass of this nice golden stuff in her hand (she's tried the other synthetics; they're nice for an occasional change, but only humans care about dietary variety that much and this one is her favorite) and hubbub from a hundred worlds around her: lovely. A lovely break from work that keeps no one waiting, that doesn't even throw off her sleep cycle because her sleep cycle cares about the sun. (It throws off Jake's, a little, but his is more flexible than hers.)
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"Home we go," says Golden. "Thank you, Stella."
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Once the door is closed, Bella says: "I don't want to find out what happens if Addy gets her hands on a mint. I'm going to render it impossible, on her end, and I'd prefer if you didn't try to circumvent that, however sweetly she asks."
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"Congratulations, you're a mint, and you've got the run of Aurum," Bella says, gesturing to indicate her world, "and a vampire irrevocably in love with you. Have fun with it. I'll probably want to pick up a batch of coins in the next week or so."
And she, followed by Elspeth and Jacob and joined by Edward and Renata, go down the corridor.
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"Let's go make some coins," he suggests cheerfully.
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He's pretty sure Alice gave him regen powers, and even if he didn't, probably nothing Nathan's going to do to him will kill him before he can fix that. Which is a positive enough risk assessment that he throws himself wholeheartedly into experimenting.
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The room doesn't have a bed in it; they're on the floor and Nathan's got his mate in his lap, and there is no give to said lap. The leg in question is slowly, inexorably compressed. Crushed.
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He can definitely see what Alice gets so excited about.
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And if he did that, then the Joker would have to heal again before he could feel similar damage done six inches down, to his knee. Six inches farther to his shin.
It's slightly less slow, the second and third times, though still within human-trackable speeds.
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"Sweetheart," he breathes, "you do make good guesses, you do you do you do."
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