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[madamemoiselle]

{Diva is lounging quite comfortably on a couch she's brought to the Plane, wearing very little. Propped against her knees is the The Poetical Works of Lord Byron that Sam has given her. She's also brought a few magazines, one of which seems to have a picture of her on the cover, but it's mostly obscured by a knife that she's been meaning to return.

But in the meantime, she reads aloud, occasionally stammering over a word or two.}

I had a dream, which was not all a dream.
The bright sun was extinguish'd, and the stars
Did wander darkling in the eternal space,
Rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air;
Morn came and went--and came, and brought no day,
And men forgot their passions in the dread
Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light...

{But after that bit, she stops, smiling brightly}

Ne, that sounds like the Plane, doesn't it? Well, maybe not so much the last part, but I bet some people here would think that anyways. I can't, though. It's too nice here. Still, how lovely! Did Lord Byron get to come to this place, I wonder?

{She shakes her head though, laughing} Ne, it wouldn't really surprise me. There isn't too much about this place that surprises me anymore. But it'd be nice to actually meet him! I really do love his poems.

{But the thought is soon dismissed, and she reads the rest of the poem quietly.}

Comments

[madamemoiselle]

{She draws her knees up to her chest, but still looks at Sam}

Ne...Then does that mean that Ray, he's a bad person?

[didorothy]

I keep trying to tell myself he isn't, but the evidence keeps pointing the other way.

[...well it's true enough]

[madamemoiselle]

Mm...

{While on the subject of whores...}

Ne, but Sam...Do you not like it? I mean, that I like to have sex?

[didorothy]

[err]

It's your lifestyle choice, Diva. It's not illegal by far. As long as it's safe and all participants are of legal age and consenting [he seems slightly irritable as he says 'consenting, for some reason!'] it isn't anything to do with me.

[madamemoiselle]

...Well...It is, a little, isn't it? Wade, ah, Deadpool told me to ask you about that, and I guess now is better than never, right?

{Shrugs a bit} So you don't mind?

[didorothy]

[because this thread needs even more hypocrisy--]

No, I don't.

[madamemoiselle]

{OH COME ON SAM, you can admit your chest monster}

Well, alright then, I guess. I didn't think it was a problem, since you hadn't mentioned it before, but that makes me feel better.

[didorothy]

Good.

Uh, I should probably get these papers back. I'm done, so.

[Sam may or may not be trying to avoid getting any nearer to that impending you-work-too-much-and-your-friends-all-put-you-through-the-ringer-and-did-anyone-mention-the-coma mental collapse by having another not-quite-argument with Diva]

[madamemoiselle]

{She frowns, just a little and for only a moment. But she stands to plop back down on the couch again}

Ne, that's fine, then.

{She wants to say something to encourage him to contact her again soon, but she doesn't. Instead she just takes her book again and starts to read.}

[didorothy]

[he hesitates a moment, then blurts out]

Thank you.

[though he has no idea why he said it or what he meant. Quickly, he picks up his papers and leaves]