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[rowancrowned]

 

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[coquettish_trees]

[ after a brief rustling, the sound of pages, and a pause, ]

Goodness. What lovely script.

[ Another pause.

(Lexie aren't you meant to be doing something?) ]

Ah, oui. Might you be willing also to let me know the measure of your hair in inches? It is of the utmost importance.

[elegiaque]

( sleepily, from a slight distance from the crystal, but with great confidence: )

Two and a half feet.

[coquettish_trees]

[ to her credit, Lexie only reacts to the added participant with a widened grin, and a quiet playful tsk. ]

Inches, Gigi.

[elegiaque]

( grumbling drowsily; ) Thirty, you jezebel pedant.

[coquettish_trees]

Although, since we are now apparently speaking of feet, do you happen to be as well versed in the length of the Lord Provost's as you are in his hair?

[ a barely audible aside, if one happens to have good hearing, ]

Am I cheating?

[ beat ]

Also in inches, naturally.

[exequy]

[ also barely audible and dependent on good hearing: ]

Verging on it.

[elegiaque]

( there's a pause, and then, suspiciously: )

The length of my lord provost's what?

( take the crystal away from her, thranduil. )

[rowancrowned]

[ no, lexie walked herself into this one. ]

[coquettish_trees]

[ Satinalia presents already?

Of course, the Lord Provost himself is right there, but also a few bottles of wine had been right there, and so, in a tone so completely and wholly brightly innocent that it rolls right back around to being debauchery in her mouth: ]

Foot.

[galvanising]

[ barely audible at first, and then cut off abruptly and muffled even further ]

You know what they say about-- Oh come on!

[elegiaque]

( #yolo )

No one's is a foot, that's insane. Maybe half when he's hard.

[coquettish_trees]

[ just barely not laughing, with the same tsk as before ]

In inches, Gigi!

[elegiaque]

Why am I doing maths, ( complaining—they can hear rustling, the shift of bed springs and blankets, ) —oh, come on,

I am estimating, ( because someone is a big princess rolled over onto his belly and impossible to wrench the sheet out from under, ) —I don't know, six and a half at full mast?

( audibly, but clearly not directed at lexie (or anyone with her), ) Spoilsport.

[rowancrowned]

[ spoilsport himself is doing the maths of laying here versus attempting to wrest crystal away from her, and how much would be overheard in each.

muffled: ]

That's quite enough, Gigi.

[ presumably his hand held out for the crystal, more shifting noises that are definitely someone sitting up. ]

Goodnight, Lady De La Fontaine.

[elegiaque]

( overheard in the gallows: gwenaëlle yelping when thranduil sits up without warning and she goes sideways. )

[coquettish_trees]

[ with extreme gravity: ]

Good night, Lord Provost.

[ ...and then ] I expect your contributions shall be appreciated deeply.

[ aaayyy get it, Gwen~

Lexie out. ]