[ Maleficent looks up and over her shoulder, slowly turning her head as her eyes flick to catch the visage of the man who'd spoken. Though her eyes betray no surprise, something in her catches, pauses at the mask attached to his own face: a devil in golden.
She stares for a moment just too long to be socially polite — with an intensity as though taking him in, thinking upon him (what could she possibly know about this stranger who'd appeared mere seconds ago, spoke three simple words to her?)
But there are things to know. There are always things to know about Man. And this one was granted the face of a devil. Perhaps part of her would shy away, should she allow it to. The thing is, Maleficent will not allow it to. So she reaches out one of her arms, offers it to him. Yet the way her lips ease into an almost hungry smile, the way her eyes sharpen, are anything but submissive; she opens her long, gloved fingers to him like a beckoning. As though she is the one making the offer. ]
Yes.
[ Spoken cooly, her eyes not leaving his own, what she can see of them from beneath the gilded exoskeleton upon his face. ]
no subject
She stares for a moment just too long to be socially polite — with an intensity as though taking him in, thinking upon him (what could she possibly know about this stranger who'd appeared mere seconds ago, spoke three simple words to her?)
But there are things to know. There are always things to know about Man. And this one was granted the face of a devil. Perhaps part of her would shy away, should she allow it to. The thing is, Maleficent will not allow it to. So she reaches out one of her arms, offers it to him. Yet the way her lips ease into an almost hungry smile, the way her eyes sharpen, are anything but submissive; she opens her long, gloved fingers to him like a beckoning. As though she is the one making the offer. ]
Yes.
[ Spoken cooly, her eyes not leaving his own, what she can see of them from beneath the gilded exoskeleton upon his face. ]