prompt b, st0308. [it's not really the strangest thing he's ever considered doing for money — or at all really — but one way or another, francel is now crossdressing to infiltrate a tea party. perhaps you're going in with him, or maybe you've just been helping him get ready! either way, he steps out of a changing room wearing a skirt, a wig, and some heels... and he's... really... kind of distressingly convincing.
he clears his throat with a kind of deep coughing sound, and then speaks in a slightly breathier voice than usual:]
Well? Do you suppose I might fool a woman?
prompt d. [it strikes francel as a dreadful waste of victuals, but who is he to stop an entire town from having a food fight? he sees where things are headed after the first thrown pie, and — with as much ishgardian dignity as he can muster — very smoothly grabs a plate of dessert and slips beneath the nearest table, planning to simply eat until everything is over.
as it turns out, you are beneath the same table; he brushes against you as he crawls underneath, and he murmurs something that might be i'm sorry, sliding back in an attempt to give you as much space as possible. once settled, francel smiles apologetically and half-raises his plate of cake in a mock-"toast."]
My apologies — is there room for me here? My frame is ill-suited to hiding beneath tables, I know...
[he's 6'7" despite his baby face, so in all likelihood, it is a little cramped.]
Francel de Haillenarte | Final Fantasy XIV
[it's not really the strangest thing he's ever considered doing for money — or at all really — but one way or another, francel is now crossdressing to infiltrate a tea party. perhaps you're going in with him, or maybe you've just been helping him get ready! either way, he steps out of a changing room wearing a skirt, a wig, and some heels... and he's... really... kind of distressingly convincing.
he clears his throat with a kind of deep coughing sound, and then speaks in a slightly breathier voice than usual:]
Well? Do you suppose I might fool a woman?
prompt d.
[it strikes francel as a dreadful waste of victuals, but who is he to stop an entire town from having a food fight? he sees where things are headed after the first thrown pie, and — with as much ishgardian dignity as he can muster — very smoothly grabs a plate of dessert and slips beneath the nearest table, planning to simply eat until everything is over.
as it turns out, you are beneath the same table; he brushes against you as he crawls underneath, and he murmurs something that might be i'm sorry, sliding back in an attempt to give you as much space as possible. once settled, francel smiles apologetically and half-raises his plate of cake in a mock-"toast."]
My apologies — is there room for me here? My frame is ill-suited to hiding beneath tables, I know...
[he's 6'7" despite his baby face, so in all likelihood, it is a little cramped.]