"Your - " She cuts herself off before actually repeating the word, pauses. There's no sign that he's going to break out into a grin and admit to having pulled one over on her here. She does take another pause, but only to slip on the closest thing her hand touches - his shirt - so she isn't conducting this search without a single stitch on.
And then she's looking, reaching down under the bed and feeling along, counting to three until her fingers touch the right slat and bump. She pulls the box out slowly, settling it on her lap, looking up to his face. When she cracks open the lid, all she can see is red before her eyes make out the shapes - the cowl resting on top, with its lenses, and two distinct -
"Horns," she breathes, glancing up at him. "Those would be horns."
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Date: 2012-04-24 02:30 am (UTC)And then she's looking, reaching down under the bed and feeling along, counting to three until her fingers touch the right slat and bump. She pulls the box out slowly, settling it on her lap, looking up to his face. When she cracks open the lid, all she can see is red before her eyes make out the shapes - the cowl resting on top, with its lenses, and two distinct -
"Horns," she breathes, glancing up at him. "Those would be horns."