Hands place themselves into the pockets of that tattered coat the fabrication refuses to remove under any circumstances, slate optics gazing upon the Lady in Red who decided to come closer in order to take a ‘nice’ look at the intruder who so suddenly came into the domain they called home. The simulacrum watches as she licks her lips, hidden from view once the male had turned around to face the portrait once more. Already she’s taken interest in tearing him apart and the fabrication would make no move to offer help should she decide to pounce.
Yet perhaps he wouldn’t allow her access to this man just yet. There is something interesting hidden behind those crimson optics of his. A lax shrug of his shoulders and an exhale of air is expelled through his nose.
Appear human Appear human
❝Tell me, have you a rose? Were you able to find one upon your arrival?❞
…? Rose? His head turns back to the stranger; why inquire of a flower? This place…with paintings abound, much in the style of the one in the Manor…strikes his f a n c y. It is…different. And he always has a keen taste for the unnatural. The painting in the ballroom had been covered by a white curtain, as if no one were allowed to see the immaculate beneath. Whom the portrait had been of, he could not say; he had no knowledge. A woman in red is the subject. But digress– The rose. “…No. Should I…have one?" How…thoughtless. A mere plant, being the subject on inquiry upon his sudden arrival into the other’s presence. The question tugs at him, still–why? …Come to think of it, now–and here he turns his figure so that he fully intakes that painting on the wall. This…is the same maiden from the mansion. And his eyes widen merely a fraction in surprise.
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