Ever since Corinne came to the Thieves Guild, she'd made it her mission to flirt with and ultimately frustrate Delvin to no end whenever she visited the Ragged Flagon. She'd swan in fresh from a job and give Delvin a half-smirk after tossing out a saucy remark, and before he could actually compose a decent response, she'd be on her way again. The teasing frustrated him in the most tantalizing way, further piquing his interest in the fellow Breton. It was almost as if she wanted to provoke him, but her sharp wit always left him scrambling until he woke up a day later, with the perfect retort, maddeningly too late to be of use.
When she was around, he found himself stammering a bit when he spoke to the beautiful new thief, who looked more like a clueless noblewoman than a practiced rogue who could rob you blind. The best thieves were always like that, charming people that used the ease they created in others to their advantage. Corinne could pick pockets with the lightest touch, and no locks ever stayed that way with her around, her skills impressive before she even joined the guild. He couldn't blame Brynjolf or several of the people in the guild for that matter, for the appreciative glances he gave her, the girl was beautiful and smart, though it wasn't the pert rounded curve of her intellect that most of them started at.
The problem was, Delvin didn't know where to start with her. She always waited for a moment, like she wanted him to banter back with her, but he only thought of witty words once she was long gone. Never before had he been so hopelessly tongue-tied, but whenever he saw her, he became more like a boy gawking at a pretty girl that he hadn't a hope of catching. Corinne had just been in the Flagon, talking to Vekel, and their meeting had gone no different than the previous ones.
"So, sweetheart, are you from High Rock?" Delvin asked, knowing that the answer was most likely, yes. "Have a drink with me and tell me all your secrets."
Standing a bit shorter than he, Delvin admired the outline of her curvaceous figure in the tight-fitting guild armor, speculating about her past. She had thick, black hair, cut to a chin length that provided the perfect framing to show off her doe eyes and full, pouty lips, a kind of beauty that was the combination of luck and cultivation. Her skin was a fallow brown color and unblemished as far as he could see, save for her hands, which did work and battle. Neither work nor battle could have been part of her life for very long, for he could see the traces of aristocracy written in the way she walked, the manicured fingernails she maintained, in the posh accent that came out on some of her words despite her efforts to hide it, in her regal bearing.
"Delvin, I've told you before." Corinne heaved a sigh, but inwardly, she liked their little interactions. Standing at the bar, she'd been talking to Vekel before Delvin sidled up to her. Turning to face him, she put a hand on his hip and spoke so softly, he had to lean in to hear her. "If you're ever lucky enough to get me talking about my past," she gave his hip a squeeze before she went on, "then it's likely I'm already in your bed, and I can do better things with my mouth than spill secrets." She finished in a throaty whisper. Her breath was hot on his ear and it caressed it as she spoke in her deep, sultry voice. Delvin gulped, unable to keep his cool.
A Lack of Wit 1/?
When she was around, he found himself stammering a bit when he spoke to the beautiful new thief, who looked more like a clueless noblewoman than a practiced rogue who could rob you blind. The best thieves were always like that, charming people that used the ease they created in others to their advantage. Corinne could pick pockets with the lightest touch, and no locks ever stayed that way with her around, her skills impressive before she even joined the guild. He couldn't blame Brynjolf or several of the people in the guild for that matter, for the appreciative glances he gave her, the girl was beautiful and smart, though it wasn't the pert rounded curve of her intellect that most of them started at.
The problem was, Delvin didn't know where to start with her. She always waited for a moment, like she wanted him to banter back with her, but he only thought of witty words once she was long gone. Never before had he been so hopelessly tongue-tied, but whenever he saw her, he became more like a boy gawking at a pretty girl that he hadn't a hope of catching. Corinne had just been in the Flagon, talking to Vekel, and their meeting had gone no different than the previous ones.
"So, sweetheart, are you from High Rock?" Delvin asked, knowing that the answer was most likely, yes. "Have a drink with me and tell me all your secrets."
Standing a bit shorter than he, Delvin admired the outline of her curvaceous figure in the tight-fitting guild armor, speculating about her past. She had thick, black hair, cut to a chin length that provided the perfect framing to show off her doe eyes and full, pouty lips, a kind of beauty that was the combination of luck and cultivation. Her skin was a fallow brown color and unblemished as far as he could see, save for her hands, which did work and battle. Neither work nor battle could have been part of her life for very long, for he could see the traces of aristocracy written in the way she walked, the manicured fingernails she maintained, in the posh accent that came out on some of her words despite her efforts to hide it, in her regal bearing.
"Delvin, I've told you before." Corinne heaved a sigh, but inwardly, she liked their little interactions. Standing at the bar, she'd been talking to Vekel before Delvin sidled up to her. Turning to face him, she put a hand on his hip and spoke so softly, he had to lean in to hear her. "If you're ever lucky enough to get me talking about my past," she gave his hip a squeeze before she went on, "then it's likely I'm already in your bed, and I can do better things with my mouth than spill secrets." She finished in a throaty whisper. Her breath was hot on his ear and it caressed it as she spoke in her deep, sultry voice. Delvin gulped, unable to keep his cool.