Welcome to Gaia! ::

Unlike her counterpart, Priscilla Stratford was never one to be an early riser.

Still, it wasn't hard to tell when the large bed was vacant of its other occupant, the sheets and blankets void of the warm body that normally slept beneath them. Her smaller form had curled up into a fetal position amidst her dreaming, her face nestled into the pillow.

Nuzzling her cheek against the soft cushion, she let out a lazy yawn as pink eyes adjusted themselves to the darkness of the bedroom. The digital clock on the nightstand nearby read a blurry red number, but she didn't care to concentrate hard enough to actually recognize what it said. Instead, she chose to stretch her legs out while her arms reached above her head, waking up her joints like a content, pampered kitten would.

After all, she wasn't too far from that.

The smell of coffee beckoned her from the kitchen - no doubt evidence of Chase still lingering somewhere in the house. She debated going back to sleep, but receiving attention seemed more of an enjoyable idea for the moment - she could always nap later, when he decided to take off to who knew where he vamped off to next.

Slowly her legs peeled themselves out from beneath the warmth protection of the covers, naked feet padding their way towards the dresser for a sensible covering. Choosing a long shirt (not of her own belonging, of course), she tugged it over her head and let it billow downwards, the length falling onto her thighs while the random print clung to her shapely form.

She glanced in the mirror and noticed the tousled hair, prompting her nose to scrunch up as a response. Shrugging her shoulders, hands moved up to brush back the waves of pink into some sort of sensible shape before making her way out the bedroom door and into the hallway.

Feet followed the scent of coffee until she was entering the kitchen, eyes squinting to the brightness of the sunlight pouring through the windows.

As she suspected, he was nearby, his face looking more tired than usual. There was no mug in front of him and all of that stupid paperwork he kept burying his nose in (who'd have thought she''d find competition in paper, of all things?), which told her that she'd woken up just in time for the coffee to finish.

Passing by him without a word, she opened up the cupboard to grab a pair of mugs, all the while letting out another small yawn. Setting them both down on the counter, she paused for a moment to rub her eyes, wondering silently to herself how anyone in the world could continuously get up this early in the morning every single morning.

The pink haired sleepyhead turned to the coffee pot, lifting it up to pour two cups as she glanced in his direction, finally acknowledging his presence.

"Y'know, I think you've read more paperwork in the last week alone than I've seen anyone else do in my entire life."

Ah, yes. Romance was alive and well in the Black household.

Not.

The mug was dutifully handed over, Prissy doing her best not to roll her eyes at the mention of businesses and acquisitions. From one world to the next, she found herself caught in the middle of boring and uninteresting - twenty years of having to listen to similar discussions between her father and his acquaintances had been more than enough as far as she was concerned. And then for him to talk about assets for the what if scenario? He might as well have said he was drawing up his Last Will and Testimony.

She knew what he was implying with his words and she chose to ignore it. Stubborn woman that she was, the thought of losing him again, so soon after he'd just gotten back….

No, it wasn’t an option to consider. Nope, nope, nope. Especially in his current condition, he surely wouldn't survive enduring...well, whatever it was that'd he'd been forced to endure.

Lifting her own cup to her lips, she took a sip before making a horrified face, immediately turning towards the fridge in search of additives to lessen the bitterness of her drink. Hands rummaged through the top shelf in search of the milk carton, first and foremost.

“By all means, don't let me interrupt you.” This time, her eyes did roll, knowing they were safely out of sight of the shirtless man by the counter. “Though I’m sure I’ll manage somehow on my own.”

The creamer was retrieved, then the sugar from the pantry. If he wanted to talk about the grim idea of him leaving her in a lurch, she could certainly add in her two cents. “I mean, I'm still young and gorgeous. I bet there's plenty of options out there. Maybe I'll find a doctor to date next.”

Clearly she was amusing herself with derailing the conversation, spoon clinking the ceramic as she stirred the drink together. “A surgeon could be neat. Bet he'd really know how to use his hands.”

It took less time to return the supplies than it had to retrieve them, Prissy testing her drink and seemingly pleased with the results. Naked feet made their way over to him, eyes appreciating the sight of his bare, scarred chest before drifting over to the stack of paperwork.

Leaning over, she glanced at the first page, quickly losing interest as she skimmed over the giant block of legal jargon staring back at her. Pft. Turning around, coffee still in hand, she gently moved to sidle up next to him, shrugging her shoulders. “But you're not going away anytime soon, so it's moot. But in case you weren't sure, I’d much rather you stick around, you know.”

She did, admittedly, enjoy the fact he used the term we when discussing the affairs planned with the young man they'd met at the Gala. Being included, regardless of how boring the topic was or not, was always an easy way to perk the vain girl’s mood. Thankfully in this situation, the topic was right up her alley.

“Has he gotten back to you about his mother’s involvement yet?” Her lips curled into a smile at the thought of being measured and adorned with a custom dress made especially for her. It had been a long time - too long - since such luxuries had been an affordable option. Paychecks from a part time job at a cafe hadn't allowed for much of anything, really. “I think we should do it around my birthday, personally.”

"Money is always priority, silly. Love doesn't have a place in our world."

Eyes glanced up at him with a knowing look before she returned to the coffee - or, well, she would have returned to the coffee, had his hand not found her shoulder and tugged her up against him. Her fingers steadied her mug until the hot drink had settled, one arm reaching down to wrap around his waist as she returned to sipping her own concoction.

She chose to ignore his other comment - it was a dead horse she didn't feel like kicking on such an otherwise comfortable morning. He was here and that was the important part, right?

Right.

So instead, her focus turned to talk of a gala. As someone of her stature should remain focused on - it was the only sensible thing, really.

Her nose wrinkled at his inquiry, her eyebrows furrowing as she stared dismissively at nothing in particular. "You do realize that my last two birthdays didn't even have parties, right? I'm more than willing to share if it means a big gala that I could be doted on properly at." Hint, hint. "Lara would even insist on it, I don't have a single doubt about it."

It was one of the many reasons she'd adored the gentle woman; Lara could make her feel like the center of attention all the while ensuring everyone else in the room felt similar. It was a talent Priscilla could only wish to develop over time, the former Mrs. Black having been a priceless gem of the social world. Despite the sting that came with still thinking of her, Prissy enjoyed daydreaming what her older friend would have said in response to the idea - surely she'd have agreed, right?

"Date auctions could be fun. Lots of hearts, lots of pink. Dress shows, maybe a silent auction for one or two of them."

Her mind was already spinning with options. How incredibly fun it would be, especially if Chase managed to convince Ms. Faure-Cameron of his date's need of a dress of her very own to wear to the affair.

Pausing to rest her cup down by her stomach, she moved to tilt her head up towards him.

"You'd buy me if I were auctioned, wouldn't you?"

In other words: attention, please.

She smirked, appreciating his offering to her ego. In return, his waist received a squeeze and her hip bumped into his hand, greeting his wandering fingers.

Work was always at the forefront of his mind, be it in his civilian life or his general life. Prissy had come to terms with having to vie for his attention with his jobs, but at the mention of bringing either of them into the gala, especially his other one, she automatically frowned.

Pushing away from her happy little standing-cuddle, she moved to plant her unfinished coffee on the counter in front of them before turning and giving him a stern look. Hands now free, she used them both to grab on to her own hips, her chin rising as she tried to look intimidating to the man who looked down upon her. It was hard to look tough, being forced to look up all the time.

"I'm okay with incorporating work into this, but we're not going to ruin..." My birthday, "this gala in Lara's honor with some trouble. Trouble comes later."

She paused, looking thoughtful as the thin line of her mouth curved upwards.

"The afterparty can be killer, though."

His first comment earned him an irritated look because no one dismissed Priscilla Stratford like that. She might find herself disinterested and abandon a conversation, she might hand off boring matters to someone else to attend to but when she was contributing something to a conversation, she was not shut down like that - by anyone, as far as she was concerned.

Hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle, but there wasn't time to stamp her bare foot down and rebuke him for being a cocky jerk. He was already there, taking up her space as hands found her hips and shoved her back. The only saving grace was the cabinet behind her, stopping them both in their tracks.

There was barely enough time for a whimper as his lips captured hers, the young woman eventually sighing away her frustrations within his mouth as the anger slowly began to dissolve. Hands moved up to wrap themselves around his neck as she caved in to the pleasure, Prissy making a mental note to revisit this particular discussion a little bit later.