Log:Omne Trium Perfectum
This time when Locke and Eden meet for companionship arrangement, it is her awaiting him. Often, after the Monitor calls on her to make the request, she directs him ahead of her while she either handles some last moment matter or goes to freshen up. There's also strategy in this, little intricacies of putting him in a position to anticipate her arrival... she always makes such a show of walking in without really doing much show at all. But it's not just about that, it's also Eden giving Locke a little space to himself before they start to spend time together, for his mood, for his thoughts, and so on. There's no telling what his day has been like sometimes, or how hard it will be to shake off for proper relaxation.
This evening, though, Locke is given a rough time to meet with Eden, and when he walks in, she's already there. His drink is already poured and placed by the seating. She's lounging in recline against the colorful pillows in the bed down area of this nooked lounge space for private entertainment. And...
Eden has changed clothing. In the bazaar when he came to her with intent of a Caller, she was wearing a rose pink piece of elegant slip skimming on her body. But now she's in shades of rich and regal purple, small tied halter top combined with a long skirt that's slung low on the hips. The skirt itself is only moderately opaque because it's so many different layers of sheer, he can see the shadows of her actual legs and beyond, the darker outline of scant undergarment keeping modesty beneath. And if he looks at the top she's wearing in the right light, with the right motion, it's a little conveniently sheer with layering too. It's clever and utterly tantalizing tactic for sexy, to be so covered in fabric, yet still revealing. Her midriff is all skin, though, and her feet are bare.
Eden is also wearing a shimmering array of thin coin discs at her hips that catch the light, and matching jewelry adorns her ankles, her wrists and upper arms. When she moves, they make a noise that's even more delicate than the soft bell-bead chimes she had sewn into her skirt to cause awe and murmur, and it almost seems belly-dancer flair, but with a very Eden touch. She doesn't move, though, not even when the party arrives. She stays poised to watch him come in and observe him, to see where he goes and what he does.
While Monitors know better than to overindulge in any one thing for that would be a sign of greed for a caste who is allowed anything that they ask for, Locke has been spending more and more of his free time in the company of Fortunates. One in particular. The fact that he hasn't demanded her company solely and had allowed her to push him off towards another Fortunate on days where her schedule is busy is the difference between a man who is requesting what he wants -- what he desires -- rather than a Monitor overstepping his boundaries for services granted him. While he may call upon her sometimes twice in the same day, if he finds he has free time on his hands, those occasions are rare.
Dressed in full uniform, all in grey, Locke had been antsy with the delay and was a little concerned they would tell him that Eden was preoccupied for the evening, but that she had suggested this other companion or that entertainer. The day may not have a terribly dreadful one, he wasn't really in the mood to seek out another's company. So when he's given finally given permission to meet with her in a designated private room, there's some relief that washes over him, but some of the agitation of not knowing still remained.
She might see that on his person, the tension in his shoulders just by his stance and movements alone, but he very often seeks out her company in this exact same way. It's difficult for him to relax and unwind. He's surprised to see her reclined in that fashion, almost expecting her to be straightening things up after another client. Dark eyes openly look her over from head to toe and then back up again, taking in her bared feet, her long legs beneath the thin fabrics, then going further until their eyes meet. He spots the drink already poured for him as well. Whatever had occupied her time before now, she made sure to be fully prepared for his arrival.
"I was," worried, "I thought that you might not have time for me this evening and expected to be shuffled off to other entertainment." As usual, his words come out in a flat tone, a wavering tension heard within. Making his way towards the seating area, he reaches down to snatch up his drink, all while remain standing.
"No. You are the only person I am seeing in private today." Eden explains to Locke, head drifting into small shake, and for some reason, that sounds like a circumstance of her own design. Her hair is wound through with slip ribboning to match her attire, tone as easy and calm as ever, voice delicately informative to break the few beats of quiet that prelude her saying so. Other than that small motion, though, she stays perfectly still with partially reclined pose against those pillows like a piece of living art. The woman's eyes follow the man to his drink, watching his demeanor, the small body cues, and she lets him drink before speaking again.
"There was a spat between two of the young companions. It delayed my whole schedule for the day. I did not want you waiting for me in here overlong, alone with just your thoughts. I thought it better that continued duty served distraction while I disentangled myself." Locke's thoughts are poison for him, sometimes, tainted by paranoias, she didn't want him imagining she was putting him off while he waited, that she didn't want to see him, perhaps, based on his deep insecurities caused by his scarring. Hence the time. But admittedly, with her dressed just so instead of meeting him in whatever she happened to have on for the day //might// indicate part of that time was spent dressing, specifically in preparation for him.
Why isn't she moving yet? Usually, she's right on him to greet with approach and that doting drink, a touch on the hand. But still, Eden is poised into presentation form while conversing. Maybe she's still waiting to see what he does about that. She admittedly sets lures to draw him into reaching for her instead of the other way around, but that might not be what this is. It's almost like she's waiting for him to tell her what to do.
While Locke may not know much about art, he does appreciate things of beauty. So if Eden is presented like a work of art before him, it's something that his gaze drinks in, being unafraid to stare out at her with his drink in hand, held but untouched otherwise. It's hard for him to believe that she would have no other clients for the day, expecting the woman to be in high demand. Even Locke would be able to admit that she is good at what she does and out of all of the Fortunates, was the one to break through to him on something other than simply a physical level.
For a minute longer, he keeps to this stillness, until he finally lifts the glass to his lips for an initial drink. By then, she has the time to explain the circumstances surrounding this delay. Despite what she might believe is best for him, Locke comes out and says, "I would rather be alone with my thoughts in quiet solitude than be stared at through eyes wanting to know if I would continue to be kept waiting or if I'd move on and call upon someone else." However, if he were allowed to wait and wait on Eden in this room, she's probably correct to think that his mind will conjure up all sorts of ideas.
Obviously, he's had eyes on her during the course of his shift earlier in the day to note the change of apparel, but he speaks nothing of this. Swallowing another mouthful of spirits, his gaze completely focused on the woman as she lounges, he takes his first steps forward, leaning to set the half-filled glass back onto the table to free up his hands. She was breath-taking and despite his earlier annoyance, she was here for him now, so he couldn't stay upset by this. "With my time being so limited due to the delay," Whether this is true, he states it anyway, "How do you plan to remedy this with what little time we have left?"
"I should not have presumed, then. I will know for the future." Eden speaks with noting deference to that preference, then finally moves. And when she moves, the lengthy layers of sheer gauze at her legs clings and drifts with diaphanous color, the shimmering discs in wreath and layering of adornment sing soft and delicate together with motion, it's like watching her animate straight to life in blossom. In one fluid roll to one side, she comes to her knees, spurred by Locke's steps toward her, hands clasped in press atop her thighs to ease her up to stand. The brunette companion steps out of the bedding to come the rest of the way to him with sashay of hips working in slow ride for exaggeration. But when she gets to him, she walks a slow circle around him, hand reaching to drag at his midsection on the way, "Your time is my time, now, for as long as you deem suitable."
Is she teasing him? It's not that she's not coy here and there, or doesn't know how to build to anticipation, but she's almost playful, despite the sensual show of it all.
"It has been three years. Today was always designated just for you." Eden says this while finishing her slow, touching walk around, stopping once front center to seize Locke's dark eyes with her own, "Three is a fortuitous number."
Eden has made them an anniversary. Not of the first time he chose her, not of the first time they met, but the day three years ago when she notched into Locke and brought him into her doting care in ways others don't know how to do.
As it's been three years since Eden began building up a connection with Locke, she would be used to his mood swinging in this direction quite often, no matter how the evening ends. He can be incredibly difficult and trying when his ire is high and there are times where he'll be stubborn enough to force his Fortunate companions to go the extra mile to please him, because he'll come off as disinterested despite using his caste privilege to access their time.
This is starting out to be one of those days, even as he watches the graceful fluidity of her movements as she rises to stand in that sensual nature of hers. Whether he was about to reach out for her or not, he remains stone-like still when it's Eden who makes first contact, tracing one of her slender fingers along his torso and for a time, he only allows his eyes to follow, watchin her from out of his peripheral vision, until she disappears from view and he's forced to slowly turn to look over his shoulder if nothing more, catching glimpse of the way the sheer fabrics danced and billowed with each movement.
Then he is reminded of just how long it has been since that day. He probably knew how many years it's been, but to recall the approximate day or month, that much is lost on him. "Today? Is it that time already?" Now this makes him think back through the years and the way in which Eden catered to his every whim throughout. Then the one question that head popped into his mind about a year ago returns once more. He didn't ask it then, but he will ask it now. "Why? Why spend your time on me?" Then again, she may not have much of a choice as he started to request her for her services at some point. It's difficult for Fortunates to say no and he knows this. But once she's come into her own, taking position of Patron and being given more freedom, which is why there are times where she would shuffle him off to others when something else needed her attention.
As Eden comes full circle to stand looking up at Locke's eyes with the proclamation, the man may partially realize what the outfit and pose and subtle lightness of mood is about. She likes to make him feel special in small ways, and him being the only man she sees to this day, with extending overnight and overlap to morning considered as another gift, it's clear she thinks him something to celebrate, in a sense. Which may well prompt the question he finally asks after all this time. It's just a word, it's a legitimate curiousity, it's a simple question.
However, it's a very personal inquiry of Eden herself, and while the woman will often speak what she is thinking in that meticulous and well-spoken way, she rarely talks about what she //feels// or what makes //her// tick. That's not what Locke is there for, right? It's not appropriate for her to talk about herself, and Eden doesn't much lean toward personal talk with other companions, either.
Eden's brows lift just a touch at Locke and then her lashes drop, not abashed, but thinking on how to answer him while she watches her hands fan out against his chest with slow motion splay of rub, "I should tell you the things I believe would be most effective for your progress, the things I think you want to hear." That's certainly a candid start, "But that is not what we do. I very much like to mean what I say. And you very much like the truth. You are certain you wish me to speak so candidly about myself and motivations?"
When Eden poses a direct question back, she looks back at Locke's eyes. She wants to see how much truth he wants right there in those dark depths, and her hands pause with rested splay.
//How much Eden does he actually want to know?//
Locke isn't privy to who Eden's clients are, even if he observes some of the coming and going whenever he's stationed within the Fortunate's Bazaar and until now, he's never asked too many questions of her, though he takes in everything that he's told of her young life before Sanctuary and whatever else she wishes to share, no matter how cryptic and mysteriously she tells her tales.
Obviously, Locke is the sort of man who enjoys feeling special. This was the case even before his punishment and scarring, perhaps why he was affected so terribly due to them. Eden knows some of what makes /him/ tick, gauging his mood and what she may say or do to elevate it.
However, she brings up something about progress, but he has ideas of his own as to her motivations. "You just can't help yourself. This need to fix and repair broken things." He's never been above describing himself as broken. They've had many therapy sessions in which that paranoia and darkness about him had come forth. Though something she brings up has him stating, "It depends on the truths. There are truths that I'd prefer not to know. What people think when they look at me. How they feel around me." Unless it's fear that they feel. He takes some pleasure out of that.
Holding her gaze with his own, knowing that it's his eyes that she's looking at, he takes pause to consider whether he honestly and truly wants to know what her motivations are. "Will it help my progress if I say yes?"
"Not quite. It would seem so, perhaps, from the outside. But the fact of the matter is, the broken and weak have no place in this world, it is the strong who bear their infirmities and pay tolls on their behalf." Eden tells Locke with his supposing about her need to fix broken things, head shaking one small, but semi-vehement time at his words after she's said that. With her hands resting at the man's chest pressuring indicatively while flatted, she keeps eyes on his, "You are not broken, Locke. You misunderstand. I am drawn to the strong. I want them to know how very strong they are."
After slipping her fingers and palms down in drag over Locke's shirt, Eden does something she's never done before with the man in the room for companion time-- she steps over and pours herself a stiff drink from the decanter of spirits, then starts to idly wander while continuing to speak and drink intermittantly, "We are well suited. At first, you were challenging, yes. I didn't mind. Perhaps you still are and I have acclimated. It just meant you needed a different approach and different care. It was a key motivator, at first, to be that person for you. It meant you were worthwhile."
There's a pause, then a drink from Eden, and she seems to be working some of the next bit out for herself as much as him given her tone of voice, "I always found some sense of enjoyment in your company. It escalated. I like seeing you when we enter, I dislike watching you leave when we're through. You are not a task, you are a boon. I feel more whole when it's all said and done, just like you."
Suddenly, Eden drinks and side-eyes the bedding and pillows before tacking on with lower of glass, "I also enjoy the way you make me feel when we don't talk at all. Do you think I was not getting return from any of this all these years? I know what it's like to pay tolls. It's nice not to have to pay them in the name of duty when I'm with you."
Having been in the care of this woman for several years now, Locke isn't unfamiliar to her strong stance when it comes to the sick. It's always admirable and rather fascinating to listen to her speak on this topic with her own brand of conviction. All this time, he had kept his hands to himself, reaching out to Eden with his gaze alone as it trails behind her when she moves, before locking onto her eyes when she looks on him. The hand placed to his chest can feel the steady beat of his heart. The only thing that shifts to this touch are his eyes when they lower, viewing part of her hand, but at this angle, he takes in more of her wrist, and for a time he keeps his gaze leveled there to witness the way she rubs his torso, dragging her palm down before withdrawing altogether.
The more that Eden speaks, while there's this swell of pride that does come over him, Locke also has a keen sense of who, exactly, he's speaking to. Eden was a Companion-- one who did her job so well, that she was elevated to Patron. That only means that she was in the business of making her clients feel good-- about themselves, physically. About everything.
Now, Locke won't deny that he sees himself as strong, in a sense, but he knows of his explosive side and some of the mental anguish that he suffers on a daily basis. For now, he watches her pace and drink, taking in her every word.
"Am I no longer a challenge to you then? That, in itself, sounds like a challenge." This is spoken in his usual deadpan delivery. He will come out and admit, and this is when his gaze lowers to stare idly at the floor, "As much as I'm sure the others," Companions, "Have been trained well, you've been the only person to make me feel that you were truly listening. That you understood me. And because of that, I couldn't help but feel more at ease in your company." The rest of what she says does play in his mind on repeat. It's what pulls him to step forward and close the distance between them both, one of his hands reaching out now to, at first, brush against her jaw and cheek, before he lifts her chin to lock eyes once more. It would be difficult for anyone to deny that Eden was attractive after all. Any man would love to hear those words uttered to them, but Locke is reminded that she is still a Fortunate One. His own eyes now study her face with subtle shift. This is where he would normally be all self-conscious, and maybe he still is, but being as close as he was now always gives the opportunity of his vulnerability of feeling completely exposed. "Whole?" Is that the feeling he gets after these sessions with her? It's definitely a satisfying feeling. "Your sweet tongue has the power to fill a man with warmth and desire. While warmth is not something I've ever been told that I induce," He moves in close, letting his lips hover near hers as he states, "It's only fair for me to return the pleasures you bring." Once those words leave his lips, his mouth quickly moves passionately against hers. In fact, she can feel the weight of his body pressing against her, guiding her back to the bedding.
"You are still challenging. But you are a little less feral with me. Do not fret, I will not tell." Eden assures Locke with small interjection while draining and putting down her drink next to his discarded glass. There's dusting of a smile there that implies the use of the word 'challenging' prior, and even now comes with polite double meaning-- he's less of an ass to deal with, and in some fond way, she's not afraid to diplomatically tell him as much. But she's quiet again when his gaze drops to the floor to go on with his own confessing, his own 'why' when it comes to the pairing that has become integral routine.
As Locke steps to close the distance between them once more, Eden turns into it with soft shimmer of faint noise from her adornments, face tilting into the brush against her jaw and cheek before it's taken by the chin to bid upward tilt and solid eye contact. She watches him study not just her eyes, but her fine features too, and her own blue eyes don't wander, they stay locked on his dark ones while he makes contemplative survey of her face. The rest of her body is utterly still in those heartbeats of time, and when he inquires and tests the word 'whole' aloud as a descriptor of what it is that comes from these meetings, the woman makes a small, confirming noise in her throat because she knows why she chose that word.
Then there's nothing to say. They talk without words often, this is one of those moments, Locke's lips meshing fast with hers in claiming kiss once he's finished speaking. Three years ago, the man would never have swooped to kiss her like this outside of sex after bidding her to look at him so, he would have never said such things, and she would have never spoken so personally. Maybe three is truly a fortuitous number. It feels like one right now on this anniversary of note that she's made for them.
As the man bids her back toward the bedding with weight of his own body in walking directive and press, she backsteps with ease and never loses the magnet draw of the kiss. She doesn't lose any of the kiss as she reaches up under her hair and behind herself to untie the halter top for slip off. She doesn't lapse with any enthusiasm as she drops hands to push at her hips for losing the layered skirt and what's beneath. While those things fall away with migrating motion, she keeps her lips and tongue a tempest of desire that he can feel as double edged, not something culltivated and one sided.
It's give and take. And suddenly she's skin and adornments only, the gentle shiver and shimmer and tinkling chimes of motion playing song to their sudden sharing that needs no words at all.
Despite the delivery of his words, it's more than clear that Locke's 'not being a challenge' was spoken in amusement, for when Eden retorts, the edges of his lips lift faintly. "Feral now? You make me almost sound as bad as the Devil Boys." These are spoken in the same humorous vein. The words are fleeting, however, as he is lost in this very moment, being swept up by the tense ferocity of his own passion.
There are a few times where Locke will force someone to look upon his face, usually it's done out of anger or even spite. Eden would have heard from a Fortunate or two in the past about how he'd forced them to take in his scarred features, because he could feel their eyes on the tell-tale marks on his face and his quick temper got the better of him.
For this evening, Eden's words alone build up this heat inside of him. She told him that she sees him as someone strong, not broken. Whether he actually believes this or not, it's enough of a stroke to his ego for him to even care. Undoing the buttons on his uniform and ridding himself of any bit of clothing, which in turn exposes the rest of his scars, battle scars, for which he is unashamed of, their coupling is often intense, usually driven by his own need to relieve stress and anxiety, but in recent months, it's spurred on by something more. Lust.
It's not strange for clients, or as Eden likes to call them, callers, to purchase the company of a Fortunate One for both sex and a bit of company, or even a show. But for most, they exchange for such services with Lux. That's no different here and despite what protests Eden might put up, on evenings such as this, where sex is involved as well as their small talks during the aftermath, he'll often tip her with Lux. Something which he's prepared to do tonight.
More often, these sessions go in the other direction. They start with counseling, before moving on to sex. Here Locke was now, basking in the beauty of their union, still catching his breath in quiet thought with one arm lifted, his hand resting beneath his head and the other wrapped around the beautiful Patron's shoulder, holding her snug against him.
While laid against Locke, Eden reaches to unclasp the adornments at her waist and wrists, she undoes the ankle clasps with slow lifts and dragging bends of legs, her breath plays catch up with quick pants. She switches to skin alone, flushed and heated from their prolonged time joined, the intensity of it, the thrill she secretly lets herself have when it's through. Then she's largely still again, restful and quiet and perhaps a bit thoughtful herself, though it's hard to tell with the Patron sometimes. Either way, the stillness and silence that's laced through with the noise of quick breath is comfortable, but eventually, while laying in drape and press over his side, her hand starts to wander and caress and touch all the skin on display.
Fingertips ghost Locke's collarbone with back and forth lining touch, then drag straight from the hollow of his throat, down the line of his torso to the divet in his stomach. Eden curls those slender digits, she ticks back up to trace over the side of his ribs, then down again to angle along his hipbone with skip to the top of the thigh. It's constantly tickling feathers of sensation while his senses are still heightened from sex, and her eyes follow much of her hand's pathing while they lie quiet.
"You do not stop until you know I have had my helpless fill too. You like it when my body is pleased, even as you find your own pleasure. What drives that in you?"
Eden just asked a very direct question instead of coaxing or easing elaboration with her commentary, which is rare, but what's even more rare is how curious she truly sounds while asking. It's not that the Patron companion doesn't know about the pleasure principle, but... it's honestly a rare thing for a Caller to drive for or pay mind to.
Despite this idea of being detached from the other castes, of being different, ingrained into the Monitors since they were young Tattlers, they were still human with human needs and desires. Locke had just given in to one of his own desires. In normal circumstances, with other Companions, this is where their session would often end. He'd gotten what he wanted, the release, and it was time to move on.
Only with Eden does he relish in their lovemaking, but that was not always the case. There was a time, even after she'd started to build a connection with him where, by now, he would, at least, be seated at the edge of the bed in silence, pondering getting dressed etc. Now, rather than uncertain as to whether he should leave or not, while there's still this comfortable quiet surrounding them, he doesn't move a muscle from where he continues to lay back, relaxing.
Feeling the gentle touch moving down his chest from his collarbone, Locke cranes his neck to watch the initial motion when glides down his chest to his abdomen, but soon settles back down, allowing his eyes to close to just ride out the tantalizing sensations as his body still burned with pleasure.
It's usually Eden who speaks up first after all is said and done, though it's not a question that he'd expected ever to be asked. "Mmm..." His breathes out in a heavy breath, "Watching and feeling the waves of pleasure that come over your partner is one of the most arousing experiences one can feel." She's a Companion, trained in the art of pleasure. She most likely knows this. His eyes then open to stare up at the ceiling, and despite the quiet, they can still hear the sounds of the marketplace just outside that door. "It brings me pleasure, to bring you pleasure."
Eden thinks about this for a moment. She knows that answer, she feels those things in ways that aren't even solely about sexual pleasures. But what motivates her enjoyment of it is different than what she thinks motivates it inside Locke. She wonders how much of it is pride, how much of it is lust, how much of it is desire... and she wonders if this is something specific to her, not other companions. But she doesn't ask that, of course, and she suspects she might know the answer. Instead, she briefly allows herself to feel a little special. But not too long. Things like that aren't safe to feel, not for her, nor are they realistic. Eden knows who and what she is and the limitations of it.
"... if you are free until morning, there is no need for me to return to the Cage for rest. I have left word of where I expect to be throughout the night. We may remain here together, if you like." Once those words are out, though, Eden gives Locke some no pressure time to think on such a long span of resting intimacy, and she continues on, "I have recently assured Phoenix I will focus on better self-care and spend some of the baubles I have been sitting on." She probably knows he's going to try to tip her before he leaves, whenever that may be, so this may be a backhanded way of letting him know she's in no need of such things, but then again... maybe that's not the point because she continues, quiet and pensive.
"I do not know my own desires enough to spend accordingly, though." After the personal confessing, she pauses, "I was going to ask your accompaniment and wonder if you had suggestion of anywhere particularly uncommon. My known options are..." Well, limited, and she makes a noise in her throat about that to substitute what she doesn't need to explain, "Perhaps somewhere notable and close, perhaps somewhere a dire brand of lovely." Another pause, "But if you do not know a place, I suppose Bartertown is something to look at, though I want for nothing."
She's asking his help and advice, not just forewarning him she's chosen him as preferred security in whatever she chooses to do.
"How fair is it for one who brings so much pleasure and joy to be left unsatisfied and unfulfilled?" Locke asks, finally half-turning his head towards her direction, his eyes looking on her face through her waves of thick dark hair. He says this, but it was never always the case, because all that a Monitor needed was to have his physical needs taken care of. Nothing more. A languid hand strokes at the side of her arm. It's a warm gesture from a man who spends most of his life so cold and withdrawn.
With how strict that the Monitor lifestyle is in their militaristic way, Locke knows that the woman's suggestion of staying the night would be impossible, as much as he's finding it more and more difficult to rouse himself up and out of bed. "You know I can't do that." She probably knows this, having offered him the same at least once before. He says this, yet there's this contemplative look within his dark eyes, running through every single option within his mind. A Monitor is only supposed to take what they needed. Did this go beyond that need? "But maybe... maybe I can come up with a reason for my absence at the barracks." It's easy to think that no one would notice his absence come morning, but this was Sanctuary and he was a Monitor. The other Monitors would take notice. But was this worth the risk? In his mind, this is what he needed. It's what he deserved.
He'll continue to mill this over, when Eden mentions her desire to take a trip out, wanting to see something of worth out in the wastelands. Here, Locke can't help but frown. There was no place out there as beautiful or exquisite as The Cage. None that he'd seen. "You understand that beside my company that this will require a full security detail for your safety? And that The Three will only allow for it if there's another purpose to the trip." Letting his head rest and relax back against the plush pillow, he tries to think. "I could ask around, see if anyone knows of other locations outside of the usual. Something of interest." This is when his words grow serious, "If it's secluded and not as bustling as Bartertown, the Bullet Farm or any of those locations... there may be a chance of a Raid, if the raiders know of that place. This will take a lot of preparation and some scouting ahead to ensure yours and anyone else who wishes to venture out there's safety." A pause, "It's possible." He won't shoot down her dreams.
Eden floods with gentle radiance, her features lighting with smile when Locke turns to look at her with such words. The smile itself isn't bright or beaming, it's a soft slant of her pretty and lush lips that extends straight over her fair features to spark at the expressive blue of her eyes. Her lashes cut away to look at his hand stroking her arm instead in a quick cover afterwards, because she can't even explain why she just lit up like that. She doesn't expect more than she gets for herself as a Fortunate. But she's still human too, and she's so very limited while steeped in people and privilege.
The woman may not know what she wants for herself, what she enjoys outside of her Cage, not often, but she knows she liked the idea of him finding her deserving in kind, allowed to have fulfilled desires, all while existing to cater to the desires of others.
Locke can see her profile keep that pleased expression with subtle lingerings even after her lashes are dropped to look at his fingertips on her arm. She doesn't even really lose the look when he speaks on the improbability of accepting her overnight offer. It is what she expected him to say, but in some way, it was enough for him to hear her offer. But then he's backpedaling into maybe. It draws her eyes back onto him, but she hides her surprise with that easy grace, and she doesn't comment, she lets him continue to mull it over and answer as to matters of travel planning.
"Honestly, I've rarely spent much of what I earn. There was a time when I was confronting the outdoors in which I spent, preparing for patronage, yes. But I..." Eden shakes her dark head some, "It is what so many of the others want and think it worth spending upon. I thought perhaps I was missing something. It is just duty to me, more or less, each time I am out. I do not wish to be trouble, nor am I particularly struck with wanderlust. I just did not know what else lies out there that might be of interest, if anything at all. I do not know what else to do with my accumulations."
The woman also has no real clue how to take time for herself, which is possible in degrees within Sanctuary of course, but... she just doesn't seem to partake in that much either. Maybe she has trouble finding the 'off' switch a person needs from time to time, just like everyone else.
While Locke didn't have much of an off switch as well, these moments spent with Eden is as close as he'll get to having his 'off' switch flicked, even if he still carries with him the burden of being a Monitor and all the weight that that position carries. People don't often trust Monitors, nor do they like when one is around. The Fortunates, however, were trained to treat everyone with warmth and acceptance. It was their duty to soothe the minds and relieve the bodies of the hardworking citizens of Sanctuary. So the Bazaar is the only true place for any Monitor to go when in need of such comforts. This was the duty of a Fortunate One, Locke may continue to tell himself.
If his absence raises any questions, Locke will just say that he was exhausted yet unable to sleep this evening and that he'd paid extra in Lux for the services of a Fortunate to aid him in that regard. Only if anyone asks. He then relays this information to ensure that they are on the same page, because wary Monitors may not ask /him/ about his whereabouts. They more than likely already know and will come to Eden instead. "If anyone asks," He says, eyes staring out forward as he finds the best way to word his statement, "I was unable to sleep and I'd paid you extra for your aid." Those dark eyes of his shift, directing his full attention to her once more. "It's not uncommon for us to suffer from insomnia."
Some say that it's never a good idea to open up to a Monitor, that anything that you say could be used against you if you were ever suspected of any crime. Locke seems to enjoy listening to her tale, however, learning just how sheltered the young woman was. She really was young, vibrant and full of life, while Locke felt so much older in his jaded viewpoint. Then again, their lives were very different and yet there were some similarities.
"Sheltered from the world and yet, you are a font of knowledge due to your studies." He continues on with something that he'd said earlier, "I'll still ask around. Though most find the trip to Bartertown to be the most enjoyable, even if they would happily accept any of the other locations, if only to be free of this place." Letting out a heavy sigh, he adds, "The outside world is a dangerous one, but with your diplomatic duties," He's about to say something along the lines of 'I'd expect you to be used to that by now', but instead, he shakes his head and changes his tune, "Raids are not something you get used to."
Now that his mind is made up, he shifts on the bedding, withdrawing the hand from beneath his head to let that arm rest at his side, getting comfortable. "Patron Eden, I hope that you're able to find the peace and beauty that you seek in the world."
Eden deems her extended time with Locke to be a worthwhile expenditure of her duty and time, even if they're both just sleeping through it. There is therapy in that closeness, and it's a novel thing, a luxury. One that he will now be leaving lux for, even though Eden doesn't think it necessary. She knows he does, though, so as not to appear excessive. So with that mindset, there is nothing to cover, and besides, the man has yet to sleep. Perhaps he'll have trouble with her in against him, next to him, another living and breathing and stirring body lain vulnerable and lost to slumber. Maybe he won't want to be that vulnerable while so close. It is something to try, something to know, something to //have//.
Lifting a hand up from where it rests at the flat of his stomach, Eden ticks her hand under Locke's chin to lean in, kiss sealing her understanding of how he wants things known to others, only if it becomes a matter of inquiry. Naturally, in her eyes, this is something he desires and something he needs, so she's thinking little of the viewpoint on how it could be seen as excess. But she's not a Monitor, and he is, he must make his own assurances and she understands that part.
Sweet and brief, the brunette draws back to listen to Locke as he continues, a touch contemplative of features before she makes quiet, simple sentiment as her reply, "Thank you." He has offered to feel out possibilities on her behalf where she cannot, this is no small thing as a gesture, even though it may seem trivial from the outside. Beauty and Peace. Was that what she seeks? It sounds nice.
Eden nestles into the nook that Locke offers with his body positioned just so, shifting and sliding skin against skin. She's at partial drape over the man when she finally settles, then after nuzzling her nose at the curve of Locke's neck and shoulders where she's made rest for her head, she speaks, "I hope that you are able to find rest and respite without feeling smothered by a less dignified and considerate, slumbering version of Eden. Perhaps I should apologize in advance." Her face tips in to kiss against the side of the man's throat, her tongue drifting hot and wet with slide of suggestion before she murmurs in press at skin, "But know that I can spend time ensuring you are properly spent to exhaustion. Do not be shy to ask."
There is a lot for Locke to think about and get used to after his decision was made. He may have had several sexual partners in the past, since he was granted the privilege to do so as a Monitor, this would be the first that he was spending a prolonged amount of time with someone. In his own private room at the barracks, where he had the darkness and his own solitude, unless he was particularly exhausted, he could spend much of the evening laying away, a prisoner to his negative thoughts. There was a risk with staying here for the evening. A risk that goes beyond what the other Monitors would say.
The pair of them have been intimate for years now and he's gone past this urge to lash out at her, whenever his paranoia rises and the idea that she was staring at his scars takes over his mind. Was he slowly becoming comfortable with allowing her to look on him and his physical faults? Or did he simply trust her to not look so closely and to ignore the blemishes on his face? It's hard to say really and despite it all, his body feels relaxed against hers.
His chin lifts, giving her ample space at his throat for nuzzling. A flash of memory reminds him of that moment when they were both at each other's throats, literally, and he could feel her heartbeat pulsating beneath his thumb. At her mention of being witness to her less dignified sleeping form, this actually brings a wide smile to his lips, looking as if he may laugh, but he refrains from doing so. Then she kisses him, letting her tongue slide over his exposed neck, a sensation which forces out a heavy sigh from his own lips. This is followed by her tantalizing offer. She had a way of lighting his fire, so though they'd just had sex moment ago, just the woman's sensual nature is enough to get a rise out of him. This was over-indulging. He knows. But at this moment, he didn't care. In a world where everything was rationed and regulated, this went beyond simple and necessary gratification. A smile still lingers across his lips, a subtle one, but it's still there. "I did say that I requested a sleep aid, didn't I?" This, he tells himself. "Who am I to deny your following through on my request?" This was his way of asking.