[ He considers saying something like Sorry you're lonely, but shit's been crazy here, so I'm glad I went, but ultimately decides it's not something a woman wants to hear. ]
are all your knickers purely decorative or just those
[ All her friends are glad they went, and their reasons were enough to leave in the first place, just like hers were enough to stay and surround herself with beautiful things. Maybe they'll come back, maybe they won't.
[ yeah how was that even a question... could've just sent another picture
Working for that nighttime wear boutique has its perks. Paloma comes back with an image of herself from just the waist on down in something with an absurd amount of gold embroidery, basically sheer, and two more examples folded primly across each (spread) thigh. ]
[ Doesn't everyone have rope? She's definitely seen him in leather, though, that was all he owned before finally buying a few pieces of normal clothes in Aefenglom.
Minutes tick by.
Eventually, Paloma receives a picture, of the side of a run-down wall, wooden slats and all, illuminated by candlelight. ]
[ A series of pictures follow. Most are blurry, because Geralt does not understand the need to hold the watch still, or really where the picture is being taken from (mainly because he doesn't understand the mechanics of it at all).
- Walls - Ceiling? - Blurry thing - His shoes - One, finally, in focus, is the pile of books he's going through, and a lantern with a violet wax candle in it - Blurry shoes - Out of focus view of the top of Geralt's head from a distance; apparently he dropped or chucked it ]
[ She can't take any pictures now, either, because Paloma is nearly nude in her rooftop garden and her tits are shaking. Hysterics. ]
hold on
[ Okay.
Okay.
Crying a little bit, she angles the watch JUST so, sending him a pity-picture. This one's of her butt and back from a higher angle, top-down. They're cryptids. ]
[ Only when the watch beeps because of Paloma's messages does Geralt realize that he's been a.) taking photos and b.) sending them.
What the f u c k.
At least that picture of her ass is soothing. Or ... the opposite of soothing. These are much more effective at eliciting a physical lurch in reaction than erotic drawings. ]
[ Poor bastard. An inaccurate image of Geralt collapsed against a wall in depression, polaroids of breasts and asses fluttering desolately around him, tickles her into another fit. ]
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Orchids in bed
I remembered to laugh
And I know you’re not dead.
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[ He considers saying something like Sorry you're lonely, but shit's been crazy here, so I'm glad I went, but ultimately decides it's not something a woman wants to hear. ]
are all your knickers purely decorative
or just those
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In the meantime: ha ha, he calls them knickers. ]
Wanna see?
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Yeah
[ I mean ]
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Working for that nighttime wear boutique has its perks. Paloma comes back with an image of herself from just the waist on down in something with an absurd amount of gold embroidery, basically sheer, and two more examples folded primly across each (spread) thigh. ]
This a good answer?
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novelty of this thing is limited but you're improving my opinion
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[ Slides another picture in there. It's her bare tits with a hand underneath curved to look like a smiley face. Yep. ]
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When you asked me if I was alone
Is it because you don't want anyone else to see
Or because you want me to react
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Both.
Please and thank you.
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Something else?
[ The word 'sext' first saw published use in a Canadian newspaper in 2004. ]
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[ Or.. any awareness.. of how to take a picture... ]
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I don't know how to make the still image
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You have rope? Leather's nice, too.
To send the 'still image', you [ the gentlest, most old people-friendly explanation of the process ensues ]
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Minutes tick by.
Eventually, Paloma receives a picture, of the side of a run-down wall, wooden slats and all, illuminated by candlelight. ]
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[ if she lets on that she's laughing at him he might give up!!! ]
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- Walls
- Ceiling?
- Blurry thing
- His shoes
- One, finally, in focus, is the pile of books he's going through, and a lantern with a violet wax candle in it
- Blurry shoes
- Out of focus view of the top of Geralt's head from a distance; apparently he dropped or chucked it ]
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hold on
[ Okay.
Okay.
Crying a little bit, she angles the watch JUST so, sending him a pity-picture. This one's of her butt and back from a higher angle, top-down. They're cryptids. ]
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What the f u c k.
At least that picture of her ass is soothing. Or ... the opposite of soothing. These are much more effective at eliciting a physical lurch in reaction than erotic drawings. ]
You're better at this than I am
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Aim at whatever you think is your best feature?
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[ He's old and pale and scarred, like ... what would he photograph. His dick ?? he's not gettin that out. ]
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