Fallen Angels Have More Fun [Keela/Vincent] 3

[Shava]

Keela had put a lot of consideration into her costume. The wings had been a gift from her mother, who had worn them during a masquerade ball at Hogwarts when she was Keela's age. They had been black then, but the rest of the charms remained the same. The wings would remain folded unless Keela concentrated hard enough to spread them. Her mother had told her in the letter that came with them that she wasn't certain whether they would allow her to actually fly. It turns out that for all her Gryffindor courage, her mother hadn't been brave enough to try. She closed her eyes and focused on spreading the wings, being careful not to knock into any of the other girls who were busily preparing for the night ahead. She was pleasantly surprised to find that the golden flecks in the feathers matched those in the white cotton dress she wore.

One of her dorm mates jabbed at a feathery appendage in a playful manner. "Just had to be an overachiever, didn't you Summerby? Who're you trying to impress?" Keela flushed, she hadn't told anyone about her date to the dance, least of all her brother. In retrospect, this hadn't been particularly wise, since Cern would inevitably find out when they entered the great hall together, and was likely to instantly wonder why Keela had been so intent on keeping the whole thing a secret. Regardless, a tiny part of her hoped that Vincent would be impressed. Not that she acknowledged that fact mind you, she'd spent four hours getting ready because that was what she was supposed to do. At least, that's what she kept telling herself.

Cern had certainly liked the angel idea. Keela smiled as she glanced at her feet. The gold sandals had been his idea, reminiscent of the ancient Roman empire, they went perfectly with the toga-resembling style of her outfit. Having finished much earlier than the others in an attempt to avoid her brother, Keela hesitantly crept down the dormitory stairs to the common room. The resulting catcalls made her blush, but she gave the room's few occupants a good-natured grin as she passed. She'd agreed to meet Vincent halfway between the Slytherin common room and her own. Knowing he probably wouldn't be ready for a while yet, Keela decided to go on early, and hopefully talk herself out of the heavy case of nerves that had settled over her system.

As the portrait closed behind her, Keela realized that the corridor was all but deserted. Everyone was ensconced inside their respective common rooms, leaving Keela to her tumultuous thoughts. She'd never been on a real date before. Sure, there had been boys who lived near by when she was growing up. Muggle boys who taught her how to flirt and made her laugh during the summers away from Hogwarts, but this was different, even as friends, this was the closest thing to a date she'd ever had. Her footfalls were the only sound as she padded down the hall to their agreed upon meeting spot. She noted a portrait near by of an somber-looking woman, with sharp features and shrewd eyes. However, when her eyes met Keela's own, her expression inexplicably softened.

Keela had always had the impression that portrait occupants could sense blood-status, and these were no exception. Portraits of pureblood elitists lined the dungeon hallways, and they'd been known to mumble obscenities at muggleborn and halfblood students when there wasn't a professor around to hear. To purebloods, however, these same portraits were the epitome of polite helpfulness. So it was that the portrait in question offered Keela a warm, knowing sort of smile. "You look lovely my dear", the woman's soft voice belied her harsh appearance. "There isn't any need to be nervous." Keela flinched like a child being caught with a pasty before dinner. "I'm not nervous!" she snapped, then softened. "I'm sorry to have snapped at you, you startled me is all."

The woman smirked, and Keela fought the urge to sigh. "So you aren't meeting a gentleman caller then?" Keela giggled, she couldn't help it. The wording sounded so archaic. "No", she insisted, shaking her head adamantly. "I'm meeting a friend." The woman sighed dreamily. "If only all lovers could begin as friends, the world would be a much better place." Keela flushed a brilliant shade of crimson and flipped around to be sure no one had heard. "We are not lovers!" her whisper was harsh. "We're only friends." The woman's painted face had the audacity to give Keela a look as though she didn't quite believe her story, which was just as well, since Keela wasn't certain she believed it either. "We're meeting to go to a dance...as friends...nothing more." Keela wasn't sure anymore if she was trying to convince the woman in the portrait or herself.

The woman gave her a condescending sort of look. "No young woman puts in that much effort for a friend, ball or no ball." Keela couldn't help rolling her eyes, this whole thing was becoming ridiculous. Here she was, arguing with a portrait in the middle of the hallway about things she hadn't even figured out for herself yet. "My great grandmother taught me it is always important to look one's best." Keela took on her most convincing 'pureblood snob' tone. Which, unfortunately, wasn't very convincing at all. "Your great grandmother was right, child, but she apparently didn't teach you to lie well." Keela gave the woman an incredulous look, and turned her back on the portrait decidedly, an irritated expression on her face. Only she could get into a discussion about relationships with a hundred year old portrait of a pureblood elitist. With her luck the woman was probably one of her relatives. "Bloody talking pictures." Why couldn't Hogwarts have muggle paintings, their only job was to hang on a wall and look pretty. She heard the painting clear its throat in a huff, and smiled to herself.

[Shava]

Normally when Vincent thought pirate costumes, he was thinking something more like the traditional, but when she had told him her colors were going to be gold and white, that had put him to a challenge. Pirate gold was easy, it was the white part which was more difficult. Still, after thinking about it he had an idea of what he needed and sent an owl back to his mother's wizard servant, asking for a favor and something shipped from out of storage. Long ago she had trapped a few wizards into unbreakable vows swearing service to her; they had done well by it too from what Vincent had heard and she wasn't very demanding so he thought it reasonable requests. A few days later he was rewarded with the package and then again this afternoon with the more important part.

The only tricky part for him was his hair. While each of her kids had different colors, few people realized his mother's hair was actually magical. With a muggle microscope you could see hers were small tubes instead of normal hair and any dye but a blood red or crimson just flowed right over it as if it didn't exist. His little brother was the only one with hair like hers, unable to dye it anything but more purple and with those little tubes. Char's was just hair she could dye, but went back to what she had, even Ash's was changeable though she cheated by changing everything. Vin had magic hair without the tubes, but dyes and even water made no effect on it what so ever. Thank goodness it stayed clean cause washing it was literally impossible. No spell had yet been found to alter it so when it came to hiding the color he was SOL.

Tonight he had on a simple enough pirate outfit; tall leather boots, striped pants, a black sash belt cover, and the floppy white shirts that seemed so typical with the fancier pirates. A real pirate sword went in the back side of his outfit to the real belt underneath, two muggle pistols on the other side (though with a plug in them so they could not be used -- his father's requirement for school). On his head he had a rather short wig on, his own hair fastened underneath to keep it hidden, with what appeared to be a normal boy's black crew cut on. Fortunately (it was the only magic thing in the outfit actually) it looked like real hair and magically fit his scalp (gripped and merged magically- - if pulled on it would feel like real hair) to hide the fact it was not his. Over it he had the cap to put with a gold face mask, but he hadn't put them on yet preferring it without. He had even slipped out his normal earrings for the hour and put only a pair of gold pirate ones in the bottoms.

He looked a very very proper pirate without being too traditional either.

Picking up the small box that had arrived this afternoon, Vincent checked himself in the mirror and headed out of the dorm a little early to try and catch her before she reached the hall's mid point. He wondered personally if she had told her brother yet about her date because when he had seen them talking at lunch he hadn't seen any tension between them and he had been expecting some. Then again, with Slytherin's in their family maybe that part wasn't such a big issue for them. Still, he had promised to be a complete gentleman for the evening so charmer mode he was in on purpose. About halfway there he heard an argument as he reached a corner and, recognizing both voices, stopped to listen amused. Whatever she was wearing, the portrait (one Esmeralda Stonecrow who was rather socially restrictive) had noticed some real effort. Was it just his imagination to hope it was true?

Hiding a smile behind his hand he got control of himself and turned the corner, crossing the length of the hall in long strides so he was near her before she realized it then slowed as he approached. "Good evening ladies," he stated, giving the nod to the portrait, "Good Evening, Madam Stonecrow," to which she nodded back, her feathers partially soothed by proper manners, and he held out a hand and caught his date's lifting it up as he looked at her. "Good evening, Ms Summerby! Wow, that's an impressive set of wings you have there! May I see?" Holding up her hand so she could turn for him, he took in the whole effect, not missing the fact that though it was a very nice costume, Esmeralda was right in that it was a lot of effort involved.

His confidence swelled a bit as she finished and he held up her hand and kissed it. "Beautiful effect," he said not just meaning the costume. Esmeralda made a noise which sounded like approval, but he didn't look at her. "I don't think I will draw any eyes tonight at all with you on my arm." As he stepped up closer (the rule of no touching of course not activated for tonight) he slid one hand across her cheek and held it there as he stared into her eyes for a long moment. "Such a shame we have to wear masks; I'd rather see your face when we dance. Promise me a few moments after the dance so I can see you this way again? Please?" What a nice last look that would be to take back with him to go to sleep by; yes, she had no idea how beautiful she really could be.

"It would only be proper to show her the same, Mr Silver-Moon," said Esmeralda with a wicked look in her eyes. She was enjoying this entertainment, clearly. "Ah, you're right!" He quickly put her hand on his waist, his hand still on top of hers saying "Since a man has to be a bit different," he turned as well, letting her hand slide around his waist, feeling both his fingers slowly slipping between her fingers and his slightly muscled texture. He did not remove his hand either when he stopped which put him significantly closer to her when he spoke (within her arms so to speak) next. "The sword and pistols are real, though father had the guns plugged before I could bring them and the sword has not been sharpened. The hair was the trickiest part really." He left it clear she could explore or ask to see something close if she wanted, as he used his free hand to touch each as he spoke, the small box under his arm temporarily.

[Shava]

Keela jumped at the sound of a familiar voice. Of course he'd choose that moment to make himself known. She wondered how much he'd been around to hear. She turned slowly, almost guiltily. She met his eyes, her expression somewhat startled. If she hadn't heard his voice first, she wasn't certain she'd have recognized him. Her gaze traveled over him, taking in his altered appearance. "Nice", she said softly, almost to herself. Then, louder, "You make a very convincing pirate." She arched an eyebrow when he greeted the woman in the portrait by name. The woman smiled coquettishly at Vince and blushed...well, in as much as a painting can blush. Keela turned her head to hide her smile of amusement. She wondered off-handedly if he knew all of the dungeon portraits by name. She made a note to ask him later. She gave him a curious look, wondering at the formality. With another glance in the portrait's direction, she thought it might have been for Madame Stonecrow's benefit.

She spun for him, blushing lightly. When he kissed her hand, the color bloomed, rising up her neck in a flush of heat. "Thank you", she answered him softly. "They were my mother's, she wore them to the school's masquerade when she was my age." Keela shrugged. "They're enchanted to respond to the wearer's will, sort of like a wand", she explained. "I don't really understand it except that it was something my great grandmother came up with." While Keela wasn't normally shy, she had never been particularly good at taking compliments. She struggled momentarily with an appropriate response before she settled with: "I think you'll manage". Then, after a brief pause, "if only because you're carrying multiple weapons." Privately, Keela couldn't help thinking how handsome he looked, but didn't feel it prudent to gush over that information. After all, it had been Vince who had suggested they go as friends, so this wasn't techincally a date, ergo safe distance was absolutely necessary.The smile she sent him at his request bore a semblence of coquettish humor. "We'll see", she answered softly.

Honestly, she was recovering from the notion that he was indeed every bit as charming as he thought himself to be. Ah well, if he wanted to be the charming gentleman, she could pull from her years of ettiquite lessons at Gran's and play poise and grace for a night, at least, she hoped she could. Stupid, bloody, interfering portrait, Keela thought. While she was glad for the excuse to analyze his appearance more closely, she was all to aware of closeness, his hand in hers was warm, and she found herself decidedly distracted as he spoke. It wasn't until the word 'sword' that she snapped out of her reverie. She resisted the urge to give him a questioning look, and hoped she hadn't been staring outright. She did, however, blush deeply as she searched for something intelligent to say. "I imagine it would still do some damage though", she pointed out finally, " sharpened or not." She gave him a curious look, and tilted her head to the left slightly. "Why was the hair tricky?"

[Shava]

Her appreciation of his looks costume had him smiling back, pleased with his success. A small head bow in her direction as he greeted her was added before he held her hand so she could display her pair. Of wings. "Manage being eclipsed? Oh too true. I've been upstaged by my family on many occasions, but I think I'll enjoy being out classed this time." His eyes twinkled at her; no, she had no idea how pretty she was which increased her charm even more so. He found himself even more interested in capturing her then before for himself; it was becoming more and more clear to him she was a real gem.

At her mention of the weapons, he pulled out one of the pistols and held it out for her to see. "Dad says they are actually old antique pistols from Scotland. They have a beautiful look for this outfit though so it was a natural. When I'm older he'll probably remove the plugs cause it ruins their history." Personally it was one of the things he didn't care about muggles, the guns that is. It was way too easy to shoot them, almost anyone could. It made killing someone too easy, made life much cheaper then it was. Dad had always told him that life should be always expensive to take.

As with most things, his father was a very right man about it.

By the time he was within her arm, his fingers were completely entwined with hers and his smile was very satisfied at his progress as he knew she could not help but thing about him up close. And he thought for a moment she was more then a little distracted; that would be an awesome bit of progress, but he didn't count on it yet. "Well, yes, it could, but I'm quite careful with my sword. I've had a lot of practice with wielding it properly." Let her wonder if he meant that another way or not; she knew his rep anyway. Giving the painting a bow he said "If you'll excuse us, Madam, we have things to talk about before hand and should be moving along. I'll see you tomorrow perhaps."

Another turn on the hall and they were out of sight and easy hearing. "She's got her head stuck in a different time, like all of them, sorry about the stiff speach. Keeps her nice other times. My hair, well, that has it's own story." A glance at her, his arm through hers, his fingers still entangled with hers as he walked right next to her, shoulders and hips in close contact. He waited a few more slow steps, not in a hurry to get to the door and wait, more like looking for a place to stand easily and talk. "My mother's mom apparently messed with her hair magically way too much in her life and it...well, it passed down. Mom's is permanently stuck in bright red and can't be dyed to another shade. Hers actually has a yellow under-layer too, it's wild."

He knew most people didn't believe him, but he had been carrying a few pictures around with him for when she asked and now that she had... Reaching into his shirt he pulled out two pictures and held them out for her to see, eliminating the need for her to let go of his hand, he thought proudly. "Here is mine under a microscope up close. See, there's a normal hair, mine is the tube one. I don't know why, but we each have different traits from mom's. I have the tube style and the inability to change the color. My sisters can change theirs, and don't have the tubes." He shrugged; most people had trouble believing it which is why he brought along the pictures when the subject came up. And it had been announced that spells would be in place to change hair colors and eyes for the event. "Since my hair is magical, we haven't found any spell that will work on it and liquids don't touch it. So I had to find another way to hide it, hence the artificial scalp. Mine's plastered down underneath it."

[Shava]

She gave him a mock-frustrated look that melted into a smile. "We'll certainly make an interesting pair", she allowed, "an angel and a pirate, seems a bit like a really cliche romance novel." Not that Keela had any experience with such things. She'd come across a collection of them in her great-grandmother's library one summer several years ago. She had knocked a rather large volume of pureblod lineage records off the shelf by accident and had been startled and confused by the provocative covers on the books hidden in a small alcove not far behind it. As a young girl, she had wondered if someone put the books there without Gran's knowledge to keep them hidden. It wasn't until she was older that she realized what and whose they were. She'd never spoken of the discovery to anyone, not even Cern, and it haunted her still in a creepy, slightly grossed out sort of way. When he offered her the gun, she reached for it cautiously, handling it gingerly as though it might go off at any moment despite being plugged. She'd seen similar contraptions in passing, their neighbors often hunted small game for sport and amusement. This one, however, was infinitely more ornate, and once she got past her preliminary hesitation, she eyed it critically.

She had no trouble believing they were antiques. The artistry used in the design had an old world look to it that wasn't common in any of the weapons she'd seen her neighbors use. Part of his statement raised questions though. "How could plugging a gun ruin its history?" It's usefulness maybe, she understood that, but how could a weapon's heritage be damaged by rendering it a display piece? She was too distracted over her wanderings about the pistol to notice him slipping his hand into hers. At his response regarding the sword, she eyed him warily. Given his closeness, she was already tense, and decided not to comment on the possible innuendo. Sharp objects did not bode dealing with lightly in her opinion, especially sharp objects that had been created for the sole purpose of use as a weapon. She pulled herself away from those thoughts, however, raising her eyes to his. She was trying desperately to ignore the semi-electric tension, aware she was causing most of it by trying to disregard it. "Fencing you mean?" she asked softly. Cern was better at that particular sport, largely because Gran had been nonplussed when she asked to be allowed to learn with him. Apparently it was fine for him to know how to dance, but inconceivable for her to know how to fence. The logic was lost on Keela, who had begged Cern to teach her what he knew after each lesson when they returned home. However, despite her interest in the subject, she had struggled with it, and eventually given up in favor of less atheletic pursuits.

The portrait nodded, offering a beguiled smile and a wave of her fingertips. "A pleasure to meet you Miss Summerby, perhaps you shall come for another visit soon as well?" Highly unlikely, Keela thought, but out loud she said: "Perhaps", and smiled as best she could, though the expression felt forced. When Vince spoke next,she laughed. "My great grandmother was that way", she answered. "All about proper pureblood behavior and learning." Her mum insisted that Gran had relaxed a lot since the days when she'd disowned grandmum and perpetuated the contract between Keela's mum and dad. She still found it difficult to wrap her head around. If the Gran she knew was the relaxed version, what must she have been like twenty years ago? She was pulled from her thoughts after a moment by Vincent's explanation. She nodded emphatically, "Gran made me learn hair charms the moment I started school", she confessed. "I probably know more glamours than any other charm I've learned." It was odd, but true. Not that she used them very often, much to Gran's dismay and her mum and grandmum's amusement.

She eyed the pictures he showed her with interest, never having heard of anything like this before. She listened intently, and when he'd finished she couldn't resist the urge to poke a bit of fun at him. "Wait, if liquids don't touch it, how do you wash it?" She gave him an innocent look, but the corners of her lips twitched traitorously upwards. "I'm only teasing", she promised. She realized then, in the stillness, that they were holding hands, and she wondered when that had happened. She debated internally with herself for a moment about whether to let go. After all, they were just friends, and friends didn't normally go around holding hands. In the end, she decided it wasn't worth analyzing too closely, and let it lie. She hadn't ever seen a wig before, and couldn't resist reaching up to run her fingertips over a piece of the aritificial hair. It felt foreign to the touch, even though it appeared real. She found herself wondering what his actual hair felt like, and worked to quash the thought. "So, what things did we have to discuss?" she asked, a teasing glint in her hazel eyes.

[Shava]

Romance novel? Not knowing what she was talking about in the slightest, he was direct enough to ask her. "Romance novels? What, people write books on romances between pirates and angels?" He softly chuckled and then answered his own question truthfully. "Well no, nevermind I can't believe that really. After all, most pirates only pillage and loot." He didn't meet her eyes nor mention what else they were famous for as it seemed a bit of a bad idea right now. And he had no plans for that, really. Seduction leading to something very intensely personal and long term maybe, but not sudden and violent.

No matter what his mom had tried to get him to be when he was younger. Sometimes, Vincent could tell his family was really screwy.

"I don't know, he never really explained it to me. But really, the sword has a rounded point and the side is still a flat edge. I'd probably do more damage swinging a curtain rod into someone's head then trying to cut them with this thing. It's just for looks right now." He patted the sword hilt in such a way oit was clear he knew exactly where it was and how to move with it, without banging half the people he passed at the same time. Clearly he was used to a sword on his belt from sometime in the past. "Um...kind of. Fencing and pirates don't exactly go along. Pirates are more the type who say "Point end goes in the other guy." It's made more for real group fighting then fencing is. Fencing is more an art then this."

Bar room fighting is what "they" called it to be honest, but he doubted she was interested in hearing about that type of fighting where the only goal was to keep your own skin intact; there was nothing gentlemanly about it. Not that he was going to be too gentlemanly tonight; he was a pirate after all and a certain close perusal of the booty was always a good idea. He grinned and touched her wings carefully, watching as they moved slightly. "Interesting. So did she suggest you use them or did you choose them for a specific reason? Cause you do look beautiful with them on, real angel like, but I'm curious the intent." He was sure she was sweet, but there had to be a bit of her that liked the bad boy in him as well, or at least he was counting on it.

He nodded at her mention of the glamors. "That's it exactly. Apparently she changed them frequently and often and tried to make stripes and such her whole life." It was clear that his hair was not a natural shade in any way, but few realized he didn't have much choice in the matter. "Supposedly mom found out when she was young polar bears have the same hair structure. The sun gets caught in the hair and keeps them warmed up by the air in the tube part. All I know is that I keep a hat on in the sun cause it gets damn uncomfortable after awhile." Of course, he had light enough hair on his arms and legs it didn't make as big a difference there and no guy sun bathed in the nude so he'd never figured out if the rest was the same way. That would be damn uncomfortable!

He shrugged, glad his hair didn't pick up much trash like a lot of people's did. She meant what she asked as a joke and he chuckled, but then explained it anyway. "It's hard to explain really. If I stick my head under water and then pull it out, my hair is dry. But running water through it washes anything that gets caught up in there right out cause it can't cling I guess. Mom always saves a ton on shampoo." His hair always smelled clean. because it was, really, the advantage of magical hair and he was glad for it. When she reached up for his hair he smiled at her and said "Feel free. I can't feel it but it's anchored to my own hair, the scalp hides itself magically. Here." Stopping walking, Vincent pulled his wand out of his shirt where he had it stashed, parting his shirt which allowed a glimpse of his chest underneath.

Tapping his scalp with the wand, there was a soft sound like a backwards suction releasing and the fake scalp appeared as it let go and you could see his hair combed down tight underneath. Picking up the short cropped black hair on a clearly not real scalp he held it out for her to compare. "Go ahead and compare. Mine's a little rougher then most, but hey, how many times do you get to touch remarkably different stuff, right?" He had a feeling unless she yanked, he would rather like the feel of her free hand running through his hair. He'd already made it clear he thought that she got more liberties with him then most girls would have. Besides, this was just friends so far, right?

[Shava]

Keela blushed, of course he wouldn't know what a romance novel was! She glanced around the room, looking anywhere but at him. "Romance novels are...er..well...they usually involve some cliche pairing, like an angel and a pirate or an angel and a vampire" she began hesitantly. "They're, not exactly appropriate for young readers." There you go, that was a very mild way of putting it. She raised an eyebrow at him questioningly. "Most?" she asked, "what do the others do?" She grinned, "a curtain rod? Really?" She eyed the thing, less wearily but still with some mild trepidation. "If you say so", she aqueased. His confidence where the sword was concerned, and the ease with which he handled it both intrigued and frightened her. It meant he had experience with it, but if not fencing then she wondered what sort of experience that might be. She felt the need to clarify, but she didn't want to offend him either. "Um, have you ever...what I mean is...you've never killed anybody have you?"

Keela shrugged in answer to his question. "I figured out what I wanted to do a few weeks ago after they announced the masque. When I owled mum about the wing dillema, these came with her response." They'd been a bloody pain to unwrap and hide in her dorm too. At least the effort in applying them hadn't been that strenuous. "I kind of took a page from mum, her costume was something of a dark angel, black mini-dress, black wings, dark make up, all that. I felt like doing something similar, but I didn't want to be exactly the same." It amused her somewhat that before she'd met him, no one outside her family had ever called her beautiful. He did it often, and much as Keela was loathe to admit it, she was beginning to enjoy that about him. She listened to his explanation of his grandmother, and nodded. "By that logic I'm surprised Gran didn't pass down some sort of glamour induced mutation", Keela admitted. "She was always changing something about her hair or her face, mum says it got worse as she got older. She apparently claimed to be thirty-five until the day she died." She giggled softly at his exclamation about the heat. "You could always cut it all off", she suggested teasingly. "If you're really that frustrated with it."

Truthfully, she hoped he didn't. She liked his hair, even more so now. It was unique, and unique things intrigued Keela more than she liked to admit. When he reached for his wand, she glanced, first at his chest, which caused her to flush a light shade of pink, then up into his eyes, startled. She hesitated this time, reaching up hesitantly. As she ran her fingertips over his actual hair, she realized he was right, the texture was odd to the touch, but not unpleasant. She pulled back after a moment and smiled. "It is different", she agreed, "but its a good different." She wasn't all together certain if she was describing his hair or Vincent himself. While she wasn't standing quite as close to him as she had been a few moments before, she was a bit chagrined to realize he still affected her. There was no avoiding that she was attracted to him, much as she tried. She took a step back, hoping that would help clear her head, it didn't. The persistant voice in her head that had come and gone periodically since she'd kissed him by the lake was back again, reminding her how much she'd enjoyed it, and how much she wanted a repeate performance. She shook her head gently, whether to answer the voice or to clear her thoughts, she wasn't sure.

"That's clever", she said finally,"with the hair I mean. Did you come up with it or was it someone else?"

[Shava]

His surprise at her description was probably more that she had read enough to know what it was, but it also clicked in his mind that she was very intelligent sounding there. "Young readers? So you mean it's sexual in nature then, that kind of romance?" Oh Merlin! Vincent knew his mother was far more an activist then a reader; she would have disapproved of reading about it instead of just doing it. "Sounds like you know enough to have read some..." Then she asked him a question which he nearly dropped a jaw on. Looking at her and seeing she really didn't know, he found himself momentarily taken aback.

"Ah...Most people have read some about pirates, didn't realize you didn't know. The famous things they used to be known for was Looting, pillaging, plunder, and the r-word rhyming with 'grape' which I won't say to you on an evening like this." He looked mildly sorry he had to explain, but then he laughed uncomfortably for a moment. "Char and I used to play pirates for a long time when we were kids, didn't know what the word meant really. When we found out we stopped saying it and kept to the rest, but pirates are not known for being shy about stuff so well there you go." In fact they had both looked at each other and thought "ewwwwwwwwwwwwwww" because they were siblings and wanted nothing to do with that and each other.

In fact pillaging could be taken for -- he stopped that thought before he continued.

Pulling the sword out with a quick motion, he grabbed the hilt only long enough to yank it out as he let go, grabbing it with his hand on the blade where it clearly did not cut him. removing it the rest of the way with his backhand he held it out so she could see where a sword normally has an edge, this one was a flat face, about a tenth of an inch wide. "See? No edge. They do that for beginners, though I have sharp ones at home and wood ones for practice." As he slid it back in the scabbard and slid his fake peaceknot back over the handle edge (a skill he had come up with himself) she asked him if he had ever killed anyone. "What? No, of course not."

He frowned at her, wondering why she would have thought that. "I've seen people killed and I live in a house of ghosts, true, but my fighting style was taught to me by a teacher, not in a real fight, though I have been in some as tests to see if I had learned well enough. Fencing is for gentlemen and I don't think pirates were ever gentlemen personally." And his mother wouldn't have taught him that way anyway; she had always wanted a pirate kid so was a sucker for anything leaning that way he asked her for. Thus his lessons with thieves and brawlers had been easy to get her to agree with and thus he was able to do a lot more then most would suspect. The fact a brawler could keep themselves relatively unharmed during an actual fight was a good plus.

He nodded at her words about being different. "Good for you, always be yourself. Parents always have a direction in mind when they raise you, but every person should decide for themselves what they are and want. If it was up to my mom, I'd probably already have my own ship and be learning how to sail by now," he shook his head, amused. No, he was definitely his own man, no doubt about it. In that he had taken a page out of his father's life in his own resistance to their Death Eater loving grandfather. Then she teased him about his hair and he laughed softly. "During the summer I get it buzzed cause it's cooler, but it feel too weird. Don't you get your cuts during the summer?"

Unbidden, Vincent none-the-less took a liberty and slid his hand up her neck around into the back of her hair, partly to feel it and partly to let her feel his fingers sliding across her scalp. She had a good amount of it, something which tempted him to grip it, let her feel how he could control her, but he didn't. leaning forward he lifted some of her hair up to his face and took in a whiff of her scent, imagining what she might taste of as well. "Yes, yours is much softer, more supple..." Did he smell peaches? The idea of running his hand around her flesh and feeling peach fuzz made him smile suddenly and he removed his hand from her hair before he spoke again. "Peaches? Is that what i smell?"

He loved eating peaches.

As she spoke again, asking about the hair trick, Vincent put the fake scalp back on his own and tapped it again, causing it to merge with his skin and look normal again, hiding his hair completely. "Actually, I saw it a couple of years ago in a joke shop and got it with my allowance. When you told me the colors, I though of it and got one of mom's servants to send it to me. It goes along with this." Lifting up the box, he opened the lid and showed her the corsage he had for her. Fresh flowers from this afternoon with a light gold chain holding them together elegantly. Slipping it out of the box he smiled and said "Want me to pin it on for you? Or do you want it on your wrist? We can do either." Vincent was fortunate that it was close to her colors indeed, but his father had always told him fresh flowers were for girls you wanted to impress always. Even his mother fell for that! Their perfume smell filled the space around them as he lifted them up for her to smell.