[ As she takes another sip of her drink, Michael's eyes peer over the rim of the glass to scan the examples on Lorca's device. Her fingers flick across the glowing screen, panning disinterestedly between images until something catches her eye. ]
This one. [ She slides the phone back over to him. On the screen is a collar much like his bracelet, braided cord with a centered gold accent, in a pale burgundy that reminds her of the burnt sienna tones of the Cliffs of Surak. There is no looking past what the collar symbolizes but that association can be hers and hers alone. ]
[ While she browses, he steals a glance at the scar on her hand. As long as she has that, he could care less what her collar looks like. Any other Sub in this city, he wouldn't even offer the amount of choice she currently has. Christine didn't peruse those images; he made the selection for her. Should he sign someone else, they'll get what she has, in a color that suits them.
And if Michael ever rids herself of his scar, they'll revisit this conversation. Or that's the plan until she makes her choice. He smiles genuinely. ]
no subject
This one. [ She slides the phone back over to him. On the screen is a collar much like his bracelet, braided cord with a centered gold accent, in a pale burgundy that reminds her of the burnt sienna tones of the Cliffs of Surak. There is no looking past what the collar symbolizes but that association can be hers and hers alone. ]
no subject
And if Michael ever rids herself of his scar, they'll revisit this conversation. Or that's the plan until she makes her choice. He smiles genuinely. ]
I'll have it for you when you come to the house.