#ben might want to learn a habit of sleeping with one eye open XDDD

[unyieldingvalxr]

An Upheld Bargain:

@honorhearted​ continued from X 

Denial paints a pretty portrait upon her features. “Don’t ya even think a’ smilin’ at me, ya stuffed coated connivin’ weasel.” Elsie grits out between clenched teeth. Her outstretched hands feebly attempt to smooth down the overly broad expanse of skirt surrounding her tiny figure. Of all the infuriating experiences, this managed to top the chart. This incident just barely managed to squeak by blindly planning ambushes.

Fancy pointed and buckled shoes. Massive ruffled skirts that weighed a hundred tons. Tight bodice and sleeves dripping with lace. All of these things made her long for the simplicity of life in the swamps. It was hard enough to mask her discomfort without the addition of a rogue door or two.

“Rescue?” She scoffs. Her sea glass orbs hone in upon him like well trained arrows. “Oh, yes. Cause the door was ‘bout ta devour me like a bloody gator. I’m a damsel in distress...” Her eyes roll to punctuate her sarcastic remark. In truth, Elsie would prefer the toothy predator to gowns and trap doors.

“I owe ya my many thanks.” Internally, she adds, ‘and a good knuckle sandwich’ simply for the humiliation she is now being forced to endure.

“Whatever possessed me ta trust ya enough ta make that bet, musta been temporary lunacy.” Elsie rumbles. Her disposition was mildly improving with her renewed sense of freedom.

Then flashing him a false smile, Elsie prods. “Is it too late ta defect?” There is no seriousness nor bite to her tone; even if a very real frustration was harbored deep within the words.

“Or ta find a window?” There is a brief, but nevertheless, active pursuit of aforementioned escape. Elsie can only envision the crap she’s about to get from everyone. If Tallmadge was already having this much fun, she can only imagine the other officers.

Unbidden, a genuine softness taints her countenance at Ben’s offering. A promise was indeed a promise, and Elsie Marion was not raised to be a coward. Fleeing would be an act of cowardice that she could never hope to live down. She could and would survive this night, even if it made her absolutely miserable.

“I don’t know. You’re not gonna make fun’a me for waddlin’ when I walk are ya?” Her eyes tentatively meet his. Then her gaze swivels around to glance at the other single attendees that she could be saddled with, should she refuse his offer. There were familiar faces in the crowd like the dog-faced Charles Lee and his equally as abhorrent whelp. Deciding that Ben could hardly be the worst bet, she begrudgingly elects to concede. “I suppose, I will.” Her arm delicately links with his. “Do me a favor, and forget hurried steps tonight. You’re liable ta trip me up. Not that these skirts don’t do a fine job on their own.” For a woman who prided herself on being as nimble, athletic, and graceful as a fox, this apparent lack of maneuverability was downright demeaning!