[ A man who cannot have seen more than forty namedays grins up at her from the shadows, teeth gleaming broadly beneath a thick mustachio. She plucks him up with care, bringing him into light.
CULTURAL LEARNINGS OF AMERICA FOR MAKE BENEFIT GLORIOUS NATION OF KAZAKHSTAN
Some document, she presumes, but a queer and poorly-written one. The cover is turned over, the plot skimmed. Her eyes narrow as she reads, and then she replaces proud Borat where he may resume his voyage to the US and A. By now she hears that the singing has ceased, the water turned off, but she remains unfazed. He found no fault with searching her own room, why should she? The ring she recognizes to be the one Loki must have received from ALASTAIR, and she holds it up to catch a glimpse of a realm she shall (like as not) never see. Asgard glitters even in miniature, its vast turrets crafted in gold. This too is replaced, after some quiet consideration; the sleeve of the hoodie is tucked the rest of the way into the drawer, her hand lingering fondly on the familiar softness.
But toward the back, something winks at her: metal. With a beckon of her fingertips, she draws out what looks to be a pair of detached shackles, all lined in a garish color. The fur does not seem real, but as she draws them out to dangle from her hand, it strikes her that these shackles are meant to be comfortable. They are too easy to escape, opening and closing with a nudge of her fingertip. Thoughtfully, she wriggles her finger, sending them to rattling gently.
When the door opens at last, she does not turn to face him at once, but the sight of Lloyd's dangling handcuffs should be greeting enough. ]
are you happy i'm happy
CULTURAL LEARNINGS OF AMERICA FOR MAKE BENEFIT GLORIOUS NATION OF KAZAKHSTAN
Some document, she presumes, but a queer and poorly-written one. The cover is turned over, the plot skimmed. Her eyes narrow as she reads, and then she replaces proud Borat where he may resume his voyage to the US and A. By now she hears that the singing has ceased, the water turned off, but she remains unfazed. He found no fault with searching her own room, why should she? The ring she recognizes to be the one Loki must have received from ALASTAIR, and she holds it up to catch a glimpse of a realm she shall (like as not) never see. Asgard glitters even in miniature, its vast turrets crafted in gold. This too is replaced, after some quiet consideration; the sleeve of the hoodie is tucked the rest of the way into the drawer, her hand lingering fondly on the familiar softness.
But toward the back, something winks at her: metal. With a beckon of her fingertips, she draws out what looks to be a pair of detached shackles, all lined in a garish color. The fur does not seem real, but as she draws them out to dangle from her hand, it strikes her that these shackles are meant to be comfortable. They are too easy to escape, opening and closing with a nudge of her fingertip. Thoughtfully, she wriggles her finger, sending them to rattling gently.
When the door opens at last, she does not turn to face him at once, but the sight of Lloyd's dangling handcuffs should be greeting enough. ]