Welcome to Gaia! ::

Horace was walking aimlessly, hands shoved in his pockets. He sung softly as he walked, his baritone voice barely above a whisper. The latin words came smoothly, something he learned in choir. sicut cervus desiderat ad fontes aqu-. He paused, tilting his head. She was small, but pretty, just like a doll.

"Hey," he said, song stilled for now. songs could wait when pretty girls were around. "You waiting for someone?"

He raised on eyebrow. "Again? You need a better boyfriend if that's the case. Or was it like a spar or something?" There was something strange about her - like... No, nothing. Horace rolled his shoulders. There were lots of people he'd never met on this island. But she looked dangerous, all lazy strength and as-yet unrealized energy. He shook his head. He was being silly, just projecting impressions of the other short hunters he'd met. Dangerous, the lot of them, hard hits behind sweet smiles.

He returned her glance with a lazy smile. "Oh, doing nothing. Didn't have anything to do so I was just walking. Though I guess now I'm talking to you." For a second, he seemed lost in thought, and he was - weighing the pros and cons and possibilities. "You need a substitute?" Obviously, Horace couldn't sub in for a boyfriend, but for a spar, for something - he could help out. Hunters helped hunters, after all.

"Oh, name's Horace, by the way." He stuck out his hand for a shake.

He snorted. "Girl like you surely has one - this island's full of pretty girls, but they get snapped up like candy." And if she didn't have one, maybe she had a girlfriend or just... didn't want one. None of his business. He liked blondes, anyway, but it didn't stop him from appreciating her fair skin and feline grace.

"Something interesting? I'm always up for that." It was true that his day recently had been read, read, spar, spar, read. He'd slipped fairly well into island life, he thought. Horace was enjoying it. Sure, there were bullies and horrible people, but it was better here. His voice drawled out to match hers. "I'm at your disposal. I will try oh, so hard not to bore you, miss mysterious." He hadn't missed that she gave no name, but he'd let her keep her anonymity for now. So, he waited, content to be led.

He sighed. "I guess it was too much to hope for to have the mysterious girl entertain me, huh, dollface." He folded his arms behind his head for a moment, thinking.

"We could... go paint my dorm door, or bake a cake, or go drink of the roof, or not drink. It is, of course, at your discretion." He smiled artlessly at her, a lopsided thing that said he knew they weren't great ideas. "Or you could simply whack me and walk away. I'm afraid I ain't a creative man."

"Accidents, hm. You're telling me." Though he couldn't really call Al an accident - he'd definitely wanted to sleep with the other guy. Horace had just been so unsure of himself. But he had Jan, had him. And he was, in turn Jan's. Horace's grin turned a little loopy, a little dreamy. Abruptly, he realized he was woolgathering.

"Of course, Dollface - let's bake a cake fit for kings!'

-

To be honest, Horace had only made a few cakes in his life and only had one recipe memorized. Italian coconut cream cake, but it was a spongey cake that he was sure he cold adapt. He had managed to wheedle some ingredients out of a tech - he wasn't sure how, exactly. Maybe he exuded enough of a wounded puppy look? The woman had seemed very motherly. By similar vein (and the fact that the cafeteria had pretty much no one in it), he had secured an oven.

"So, what kind do you wanna make?" He grinned and tossed her a pack of butter. They were probably going to get flour everywhere.

He grinned rakishly (or tried, he probably wasn't as good at it as he thought). "The lady stationed here right now and I get along. Oh, do you know how to make frosting, at least?" By get along, Horace meant he traded novels with her and flirted harmlessly.

"Mmm, earlier you mentioned accidents. I sort of had one." He shifted the dry ingredients together, a fine whiteness dusting his sweater. "But even drunkness isn't an excuse - so I'm more careful now. It helps that I worked things out with my guy." He arched one brow and looked at her, gaze sweeping from head to toe.

"Why, have you had accidents, dollface?"

"Hmm," he said, cocking one hip. "I dunno, but you definitely look like a girl who leads others to accidents." Pretty face with an air of mystery or perhaps a hard-to-get demeanor? Oh yeah - she was a road to wreck and ruin. "And I like both, dollface. Just snagged myself a nice guy right off. Pale, pale skin, blond, eyes as blue as glaciers... ********, he's perfect." Horace trailed off. Jan wasn't perfect and Horace knew that, but maybe, just maybe Jan was perfect for him. Horace just had to stop being so insecure.

He pointed a whisk at her. "We can drink, but nothing will happen unless you like hugs. Oh, and I don't have a recipe written down - it's all in my head." He looked her up and down. "Girl with your looks doesn't bake? Alas. Lemme find a piece of paper." He dragged out his notebook and jotted things down before realizing he'd written it in shorthand. Crossing it out, he rewrote it before tearing out the page and sliding it to her.