#scarsdale

Murmur T. Prickleskin stalks forlornly in the cold. Obsessively, hungrily, with the cold relentless passion of a serial killer.

Naturally, the lady sluagh in the house loves it.

She's spurned him at least twice now, as is custom.

She ponders which bodice she's willing to have ripped away, but oh, sentimental fool, she chides herself, she's plotting far too far ahead.

Meanwhile, the dark gentleman in the cold writhes with desire obligingly,. happily. Oh what a find she is. Already she has left favors 'dropped' by accident.

he wonders whose blood is on the lace? Ah well

If not for the gay magenta polka dots of old sanguine on the lace, he might have lost it in the snow.

Meanwhile, the lady who left the favor is hoping the fact the lace had such..signs, doesn't come across as too forward?

Still she is rather enjoying herself.

(Fade to flirtation)