Encounterlogs
Martins Odd Encounter Sr Marija
Martin’s encounter begins as he lies thoughtfully in bed while a mysterious, ethereal siren, self-named Nadija, whispers to him. Sensing a strange presence, he reaches for a crossbow hidden beneath his bed, speaking cautiously to the alluring figure that teases her visibility. She tempts Martin with suggestions of secrets, inviting herself to breakfast, her seduction seemingly undeterred by Martin's crossbow. The woman's supernatural allure pervades the room as she floats in and out of perception, demanding his culinary expertise while evoking a blend of apprehension and intrigue in Martin.
The tension crescendos in the kitchen where Martin prepares toast and bacon, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite Nadija’s closeness. She strokes his arm, speaks of watching him, and implies partnership with promises of protection and more. Nadija continues to entice him with insinuations of a deeper connection, but Martin deflects with politeness and a hint of anxiety. When breakfast is finally served, she consumes the food and melts away, leaving Martin alone with a veiled warning. He is left processing the unsettling visitation, wondering whether to fear or anticipate the next interaction—and what her visit truly portends.
(Martin's odd encounter(SRMarija):SRMarija)
[Sun Nov 26 2023]
In a cozy bedroom
This cozy, homely looking bedroom features hardwood flooring and walls colored with light blue wallpaper. A king-size bed stands centered against the eastern wall, flanked by a wardrobe and a nightstand to each side. A white-striped blue rug covers the floor in front of the bed, completing the homey, coastal atmosphere of this bedroom.
It is noon, about 40F(4C) degrees, and the sky is covered by wispy white clouds.
(A demon from hell has become interested in your target, they decide to see if they can tempt them into becoming one of their instruments on earth.
)
Martin seems to be laying on the bed under some wavy blue bedsheets reminiscent of the serene oceans, an arm loosely draped around a waifish redhead sleeping next to him as he thoughtfully stares at the ceiling.
The ceiling is such an interesting thing to stare at, in times of thoughtfulness. Is that why, for so many years, people thought it was a great idea to popcorn it? Perhaps. But whatever the answers he seeks, they'll have to come from his mind for Martin's ceiling is very lacking in the social art of communication, this afternoon. As the girl beside him sleeps on, however, there's a strange sense that something else is going on. Is someone watching him?
Martin is quick to catch onto that slight nudge of a feeling that something just is not right. He pauses, at first, glancing aside to the redhead beside him: she happens to be sound asleep with the one healthy eye closed. He pulls the bedsheet a bit higher over her with a great amount of care before slowly, subtly reaching for a literal crossbow under the bed, his brown eyes slowly scanning and sweeping around the room as his lips remain pressed together.
"No, really. That won't help," comes a whisper so quiet that it might well have just been his own mind, as Martin reaches for his crossbow. But then there's a slight shimmering in the air, and a form begins to make itself visible. It's incorporeal, and yet the distinctly attractive curves of a svelte woman with sleek, straight dark hair and the most piercing green eyes can be made out, if one were to stare at this shimmer just right. At least once in his visual sweep of the room, Martin catches that glimpse.
Martin freezes momentarily with the whisper that might just as well not exist, prompting him to pause his reaching for his crossbow. He swallows, then takes in a deep breath, "To who do I owe the pleasure?" He asks back in a whisper, his hand still near his crossbow yet not making any more advances towards it, and he seems to lock onto, or try to lock onto that ethereal sight of the lady that might as well not exist.
She's not a ghost, or if she is, she's one that has a good deal of mastery of her form, for as Martin seems to clue in to her presence more fully, she becomes yet more visible. Her skin is tawny, her hair dark, and her curves absolutely sublime. In fact, she has the look of something straight from the pages of the stories of Eve and Adam, or perhaps Lady Godiva. She's clothed only in the drape of her hair, with just enough discretely hidden for claims at modesty, though it's highly unlikely that anyone who saw her in Martin's room would ever buy that for a second. "It could well be a pleasure," she says to him, taking a slow step forward, bare toes extending, touching the floor, and the muscles of her leg shifting subtly, in that slow, blatantly seductive movement.
How is a step seductive? But she makes it so.
"You can call me Nadija," the woman offers to Martin. "And you are Martin Lowe. It's been a long time that I've wanted to get to know you..." There's a pause, a beat in time, and then she asks, "Will you cook for me?"
"That seems to be quite the popular name nowadays," Martin makes a quiet observation, his hand drawing closer to the black compound crossbow as the woman draws closer to him in that seductive manner, perhaps he has a different kind of penetration in mind, he manages a bit of a smile, then, quite polite for someone that seems to be undergoing a paranormal home invasion, "Oh?" He lets out, "I must say that I am indeed quite popular," He takes the opportunity to boast in a whisper, still taking care to not wake the girl beside him up as that slender hand still seems to be slooowly making it to his crossbow.
"So it seems," the being says with a twist of full, boldly red and pouty lips as she (she? It must be a she, given those abundant curves) looks dismissively over at the sleeping girl. "But I've heard good things about your skills in the kitchen, so come, Marty. Show me?" she coos, with a trail of a bloodred nail along one thigh, caressing upward toward a flared, full hip. "We've so much to talk about, my darling. So, so much."
That same hand turns outward, palm up in a gesture that can only mean she's hoping for Martin to claim her hand. Not a flicker of concern seems to be paid toward the crossbow's threat, but she watches him all the same through hooded eyes.
But as she starts to take a step backward, there's a flare of rage that suddenly twists the being's beautiful face. "Someone else uses MY name?" she hisses. "Who dares?"
Martin just rolls and leans a little, slowly, to grab his crossbow with not much subtlety this time, the thing already seeming to be racked and ready to shoot a bolt as he slowly points it towards the being, "I must agree that I am a most renowned chef," He further boasts as he does not accept the hand, but instead opts to slide one leg off the bed, then another, all the while he points the crossbow at the being, "Do forgive my rudeness, I am not too used to bedroom visits," He apologizes in a sincere sounding tone as he gets onto his feet, still in his boxers. He blinks at the reaction that he seems to see from the being, "Thousands of people on planet Earth, if not tens of thousands," He gives the perfect technical answer, "I would greatly appreciate it if you were to enlighten me about the nature of this ... surprise visit and convo, though."
"Yes yes," the being says dismissively again, apparently over the issue that'd made her momentarily so angry. "Over breakfast. Come, Marty," she coos in yet another invitation. "I'm hungry and I do think that, at the very least, you owe me a conversation." Whatever has given her that idea, she sounds firmly adamant in it, turning and gesturing to the door, with the extension of one svelte, bare arm. Even that demanding gesture is somehow sultry.
Without batting a lash at the sight of the crossbow, she turns and steps through the door to the living room. It must be quite the sight to see half of her disappear, before that beautiful face turns back, a shifting of the head that has her looking over her shoulder at him. "Don't make me wait, love."
Martin seems greatly confused by everything about the being that stands (?) before him, her appearance, her nature, her words and her manner of speaking, although he seems to be quick to adapt, "Iiiif you insist," He offers along with a casual little shrug as he lays a hand on the rack of the crossbow, then slowly unhooks it from the rest of the mechanism, disarming it temporarily before setting it quietly on the nightstand, the thing apparently having called his bluff to that point, or his arm is just feeling tired. He walks towards the living room door at a normal pace, then, following the thing without seeming to pay too much attention onto the sultry nature of the demand, "How does some toast and bacon sound?"
"Delicious," the being declares in a satisfied tone as it steps through the door, and leaves Martin to open it, himself, to depart.
By the time that he makes it to his own living room, he'll find her seated on his loveseat, one leg crossed over the other and hair carefully arranged-- though perhaps that's just the nature of her hair, it works as a garment of some sort. She watches him thoughtfully, and then those full lips part again, the pleased little smile lingering upon them even as she speaks.
"You've left the Hand, darling. I hope their petty little internal squabbles didn't make you feel unimportant?"
Martin casually moves over to the kitchen after opening the bedroom door and passing through it in an awfully human-like manner, closing it quietly behind himself, "You've a fine taste," He compliments as he slowly gets to arrange the ingredients required for the promised toast and bacon, his eyes don't really linger on it or her hair conveniently covering her either, apparently not too eager to ogle nor anger ethereal beings as he prepares for another cooking session, "I haven't exactly left it," He explains himself, facing the kitchen, "I just got a liiittlle... laid off, let's say, it's a common misconception, though." He explains as he takes a slice of bread and spreads some butter on both sides, repeating that for three slices as he lets some rashers thaw.
"Mmm, does the Order know that?" this Nadija creature asks of Martin, leaning forward, then rising from her seat to move, soundless and silky, toward the kitchen where he works. There's an avid interest in his preparation of this simple meal.
"You're a delight," she declares, and then there's the soft feel of a hand on his arm, the gentle caress over bare skin. Somehow, she's come right up behind him while he cooks, without warning and without sound. Despite the ethereal form, there's a warmth from the nude creature as if from a human body, or something almost human. Perhaps she feels just a touch warmer, but definitely not cooler.
"Such a delight," she repeats, her voice husky. "We could make such a good team, you and I."
Martin places a pan on the gas cooktop and fires it, adjusting it to medium-low heat before allowing it to heat up a little, observing it, "Yeeep, they know my situation." He replies calmly as he observes the pan heat up, then throws in the pieces of bread, soon followed by another pan being placed on there before being decorated with a good few rashers of bacon. He seems a little startled with the touch on his bare arm, and offers a bit of an awkward smile, "Thank you, Nadija," He offers in a sincere sounding tone laced with a bit of nervousness as he focuses back on the cooking, "I am afraid I barely know you to get into the team aspect, just yet," He does clarify, there.
"That smells so good," the being that hovers behind Martin says, inhaling deeply the scent of frying bacon and bread. That touch lingers, slowly sliding up and down his bare arm as she moves. Oddly enough, the rest of her curves don't seem to brush against him, despite how close she seems to be getting.
"What do you want, Marty?" she asks, voice low and cooing against his ear. "Do you want to know me?" There's ever so much sensual implication in that question and in the coo of her voice. "We can make that happen..."
"I don't work with the Hand," the female does offer out, afterwards, just a tidbit dropped. "But I can offer you the sorts of protections they never could. And so much more..." And now her arm wraps around his shoulders, and now he can feel the gentle press of that lusciously curvaceous body against his back. "Work with me," she urges softly.
Martin seems to be giving his best trying to act normal in such a tense situation, trying to cook the perfect bacon and toast while some unearthly being that he has never seen before tries to do things that he just can not seem to comprehend just yet, "Oh, yeah, sure, sure, know you better," He agrees with a nervous little smile as he unprovocatively grabs a wooden spatula and gives the toasties a good flip, then the rashers, "Uuuhh.." He lets out as the body rubs onto his back, "Aren't we rushing into a partnership a little *too* fast?" He does allow nervously as he pauses.
Her voice lowers. "Not fast at all. I've been watching you for some time, Marty," that rich, throaty murmur continues, although a glance at the being's face would betray just how delighted she is in his discomfort. "You deserve more than just to be used and abandoned by these groups. I wouldn't abandon you..." That promise, along with a slow stroke of a hand, and the feel of sharp nails just lightly raking his chest, follow with a soft and almost girlish laugh. "I'd never abandon something as delicious as you are..."
But then, there's a slight drawing back, the feel of that warmth pulling away and the lack of presence so close. If he's watching, the female glides back to the counter where she'd been watching him briefly, before.
"Do you need time to think about it, love?" she wonders, idly running one red nail down the line between her breasts, breasts which despite being full, large, and obviously natural need no support at all to stay perky and firm. Her lips moue back into that pout. "I can give you time but... oh not too long. This world doesn't have forever any more, you know."
"...I doon't think I've seen you before..?" Martin admits once again a little nervously to the being as he holds a wooden spatula in one hand, trying to offer her a genuine smile but failing to hide that sense of unease on his features, "The Order has been very good to me, really, be assured," He attempts to assure as he kills the heat and retrieves a plate to place the finely-toasted bread and cooked rashers into it. He seems almost relieved as the body draws back, making that obvious, to himself at least, with a very, very quiet sigh of relief, "Perhaps you should ... arrange a meeting..? Like, we could meet up somewhere else, you know, I wasn't really.." A pause, "Expecting visitors today."
"Oh love," the creature says, with a flash of a smile that reveals the pearly white fangs, behind blood-red lips. "If I'd asked for a meeting, I quite believe you'd have refused. But now you know me..." At least a little bit. With the plate piled high with food, she reaches out her hands to claim it from Martin, and immediately begins to eat. Hopefully he wasn't planning on keeping any of that for himself. The first rasher is nibbled, and then the second as she watches him thoughtfully. "So I suppose that can be arranged," she finally agrees, as she licks a bit of bacon grease off one finger. This is not a creature worried with proper ettiquette.
She looks over Martin once more, gaze sweeping from hair to feet and back to meet his eyes. There, for a moment, is a flash of red that simmers in her otherwise dark gaze, and her smile grows richer, deeper with some shared secret. "I think you'll accept, now."
With the last rasher of bacon snagged just before her form starts to melt away entirely once more, there's a cooed, "Don't disappoint me, love. I don't like being disappointed..."
Martin doesn't seem to resist the plate being snatched away, nor object as the being just starts to gobble its contents down, at most seeming just content that her attention is now not focused solely on him, but shared in between the food and him. He manages another nervous little smile, "Well- yeah! It was lovely to meet you, Nadija... hope you enjoy the food," He offers as he takes a subtle step back, trying to look like as much of a good lad as he can in his boxers, "Oh, yeah, I don't like being disappointed either, like, I can totally relate. We'll get it arranged, promise," He assures, perhaps a little awkwardly.
"Mmm..." The purr is all that's left of her, and then even that is gone. So is Martin's plate and the last of the food that was on it, unfortunately. Hopefully, it wasn't part of an irreplaceable set. But now the man is alone, with that odd memory that's clearly left him uncomfortable... will she be in touch? And what sort of time frame does an entity like that even follow?
The tension crescendos in the kitchen where Martin prepares toast and bacon, trying to maintain a semblance of normalcy despite Nadija’s closeness. She strokes his arm, speaks of watching him, and implies partnership with promises of protection and more. Nadija continues to entice him with insinuations of a deeper connection, but Martin deflects with politeness and a hint of anxiety. When breakfast is finally served, she consumes the food and melts away, leaving Martin alone with a veiled warning. He is left processing the unsettling visitation, wondering whether to fear or anticipate the next interaction—and what her visit truly portends.
(Martin's odd encounter(SRMarija):SRMarija)
[Sun Nov 26 2023]
In a cozy bedroom
This cozy, homely looking bedroom features hardwood flooring and walls colored with light blue wallpaper. A king-size bed stands centered against the eastern wall, flanked by a wardrobe and a nightstand to each side. A white-striped blue rug covers the floor in front of the bed, completing the homey, coastal atmosphere of this bedroom.
It is noon, about 40F(4C) degrees, and the sky is covered by wispy white clouds.
(A demon from hell has become interested in your target, they decide to see if they can tempt them into becoming one of their instruments on earth.
)
Martin seems to be laying on the bed under some wavy blue bedsheets reminiscent of the serene oceans, an arm loosely draped around a waifish redhead sleeping next to him as he thoughtfully stares at the ceiling.
The ceiling is such an interesting thing to stare at, in times of thoughtfulness. Is that why, for so many years, people thought it was a great idea to popcorn it? Perhaps. But whatever the answers he seeks, they'll have to come from his mind for Martin's ceiling is very lacking in the social art of communication, this afternoon. As the girl beside him sleeps on, however, there's a strange sense that something else is going on. Is someone watching him?
Martin is quick to catch onto that slight nudge of a feeling that something just is not right. He pauses, at first, glancing aside to the redhead beside him: she happens to be sound asleep with the one healthy eye closed. He pulls the bedsheet a bit higher over her with a great amount of care before slowly, subtly reaching for a literal crossbow under the bed, his brown eyes slowly scanning and sweeping around the room as his lips remain pressed together.
"No, really. That won't help," comes a whisper so quiet that it might well have just been his own mind, as Martin reaches for his crossbow. But then there's a slight shimmering in the air, and a form begins to make itself visible. It's incorporeal, and yet the distinctly attractive curves of a svelte woman with sleek, straight dark hair and the most piercing green eyes can be made out, if one were to stare at this shimmer just right. At least once in his visual sweep of the room, Martin catches that glimpse.
Martin freezes momentarily with the whisper that might just as well not exist, prompting him to pause his reaching for his crossbow. He swallows, then takes in a deep breath, "To who do I owe the pleasure?" He asks back in a whisper, his hand still near his crossbow yet not making any more advances towards it, and he seems to lock onto, or try to lock onto that ethereal sight of the lady that might as well not exist.
She's not a ghost, or if she is, she's one that has a good deal of mastery of her form, for as Martin seems to clue in to her presence more fully, she becomes yet more visible. Her skin is tawny, her hair dark, and her curves absolutely sublime. In fact, she has the look of something straight from the pages of the stories of Eve and Adam, or perhaps Lady Godiva. She's clothed only in the drape of her hair, with just enough discretely hidden for claims at modesty, though it's highly unlikely that anyone who saw her in Martin's room would ever buy that for a second. "It could well be a pleasure," she says to him, taking a slow step forward, bare toes extending, touching the floor, and the muscles of her leg shifting subtly, in that slow, blatantly seductive movement.
How is a step seductive? But she makes it so.
"You can call me Nadija," the woman offers to Martin. "And you are Martin Lowe. It's been a long time that I've wanted to get to know you..." There's a pause, a beat in time, and then she asks, "Will you cook for me?"
"That seems to be quite the popular name nowadays," Martin makes a quiet observation, his hand drawing closer to the black compound crossbow as the woman draws closer to him in that seductive manner, perhaps he has a different kind of penetration in mind, he manages a bit of a smile, then, quite polite for someone that seems to be undergoing a paranormal home invasion, "Oh?" He lets out, "I must say that I am indeed quite popular," He takes the opportunity to boast in a whisper, still taking care to not wake the girl beside him up as that slender hand still seems to be slooowly making it to his crossbow.
"So it seems," the being says with a twist of full, boldly red and pouty lips as she (she? It must be a she, given those abundant curves) looks dismissively over at the sleeping girl. "But I've heard good things about your skills in the kitchen, so come, Marty. Show me?" she coos, with a trail of a bloodred nail along one thigh, caressing upward toward a flared, full hip. "We've so much to talk about, my darling. So, so much."
That same hand turns outward, palm up in a gesture that can only mean she's hoping for Martin to claim her hand. Not a flicker of concern seems to be paid toward the crossbow's threat, but she watches him all the same through hooded eyes.
But as she starts to take a step backward, there's a flare of rage that suddenly twists the being's beautiful face. "Someone else uses MY name?" she hisses. "Who dares?"
Martin just rolls and leans a little, slowly, to grab his crossbow with not much subtlety this time, the thing already seeming to be racked and ready to shoot a bolt as he slowly points it towards the being, "I must agree that I am a most renowned chef," He further boasts as he does not accept the hand, but instead opts to slide one leg off the bed, then another, all the while he points the crossbow at the being, "Do forgive my rudeness, I am not too used to bedroom visits," He apologizes in a sincere sounding tone as he gets onto his feet, still in his boxers. He blinks at the reaction that he seems to see from the being, "Thousands of people on planet Earth, if not tens of thousands," He gives the perfect technical answer, "I would greatly appreciate it if you were to enlighten me about the nature of this ... surprise visit and convo, though."
"Yes yes," the being says dismissively again, apparently over the issue that'd made her momentarily so angry. "Over breakfast. Come, Marty," she coos in yet another invitation. "I'm hungry and I do think that, at the very least, you owe me a conversation." Whatever has given her that idea, she sounds firmly adamant in it, turning and gesturing to the door, with the extension of one svelte, bare arm. Even that demanding gesture is somehow sultry.
Without batting a lash at the sight of the crossbow, she turns and steps through the door to the living room. It must be quite the sight to see half of her disappear, before that beautiful face turns back, a shifting of the head that has her looking over her shoulder at him. "Don't make me wait, love."
Martin seems greatly confused by everything about the being that stands (?) before him, her appearance, her nature, her words and her manner of speaking, although he seems to be quick to adapt, "Iiiif you insist," He offers along with a casual little shrug as he lays a hand on the rack of the crossbow, then slowly unhooks it from the rest of the mechanism, disarming it temporarily before setting it quietly on the nightstand, the thing apparently having called his bluff to that point, or his arm is just feeling tired. He walks towards the living room door at a normal pace, then, following the thing without seeming to pay too much attention onto the sultry nature of the demand, "How does some toast and bacon sound?"
"Delicious," the being declares in a satisfied tone as it steps through the door, and leaves Martin to open it, himself, to depart.
By the time that he makes it to his own living room, he'll find her seated on his loveseat, one leg crossed over the other and hair carefully arranged-- though perhaps that's just the nature of her hair, it works as a garment of some sort. She watches him thoughtfully, and then those full lips part again, the pleased little smile lingering upon them even as she speaks.
"You've left the Hand, darling. I hope their petty little internal squabbles didn't make you feel unimportant?"
Martin casually moves over to the kitchen after opening the bedroom door and passing through it in an awfully human-like manner, closing it quietly behind himself, "You've a fine taste," He compliments as he slowly gets to arrange the ingredients required for the promised toast and bacon, his eyes don't really linger on it or her hair conveniently covering her either, apparently not too eager to ogle nor anger ethereal beings as he prepares for another cooking session, "I haven't exactly left it," He explains himself, facing the kitchen, "I just got a liiittlle... laid off, let's say, it's a common misconception, though." He explains as he takes a slice of bread and spreads some butter on both sides, repeating that for three slices as he lets some rashers thaw.
"Mmm, does the Order know that?" this Nadija creature asks of Martin, leaning forward, then rising from her seat to move, soundless and silky, toward the kitchen where he works. There's an avid interest in his preparation of this simple meal.
"You're a delight," she declares, and then there's the soft feel of a hand on his arm, the gentle caress over bare skin. Somehow, she's come right up behind him while he cooks, without warning and without sound. Despite the ethereal form, there's a warmth from the nude creature as if from a human body, or something almost human. Perhaps she feels just a touch warmer, but definitely not cooler.
"Such a delight," she repeats, her voice husky. "We could make such a good team, you and I."
Martin places a pan on the gas cooktop and fires it, adjusting it to medium-low heat before allowing it to heat up a little, observing it, "Yeeep, they know my situation." He replies calmly as he observes the pan heat up, then throws in the pieces of bread, soon followed by another pan being placed on there before being decorated with a good few rashers of bacon. He seems a little startled with the touch on his bare arm, and offers a bit of an awkward smile, "Thank you, Nadija," He offers in a sincere sounding tone laced with a bit of nervousness as he focuses back on the cooking, "I am afraid I barely know you to get into the team aspect, just yet," He does clarify, there.
"That smells so good," the being that hovers behind Martin says, inhaling deeply the scent of frying bacon and bread. That touch lingers, slowly sliding up and down his bare arm as she moves. Oddly enough, the rest of her curves don't seem to brush against him, despite how close she seems to be getting.
"What do you want, Marty?" she asks, voice low and cooing against his ear. "Do you want to know me?" There's ever so much sensual implication in that question and in the coo of her voice. "We can make that happen..."
"I don't work with the Hand," the female does offer out, afterwards, just a tidbit dropped. "But I can offer you the sorts of protections they never could. And so much more..." And now her arm wraps around his shoulders, and now he can feel the gentle press of that lusciously curvaceous body against his back. "Work with me," she urges softly.
Martin seems to be giving his best trying to act normal in such a tense situation, trying to cook the perfect bacon and toast while some unearthly being that he has never seen before tries to do things that he just can not seem to comprehend just yet, "Oh, yeah, sure, sure, know you better," He agrees with a nervous little smile as he unprovocatively grabs a wooden spatula and gives the toasties a good flip, then the rashers, "Uuuhh.." He lets out as the body rubs onto his back, "Aren't we rushing into a partnership a little *too* fast?" He does allow nervously as he pauses.
Her voice lowers. "Not fast at all. I've been watching you for some time, Marty," that rich, throaty murmur continues, although a glance at the being's face would betray just how delighted she is in his discomfort. "You deserve more than just to be used and abandoned by these groups. I wouldn't abandon you..." That promise, along with a slow stroke of a hand, and the feel of sharp nails just lightly raking his chest, follow with a soft and almost girlish laugh. "I'd never abandon something as delicious as you are..."
But then, there's a slight drawing back, the feel of that warmth pulling away and the lack of presence so close. If he's watching, the female glides back to the counter where she'd been watching him briefly, before.
"Do you need time to think about it, love?" she wonders, idly running one red nail down the line between her breasts, breasts which despite being full, large, and obviously natural need no support at all to stay perky and firm. Her lips moue back into that pout. "I can give you time but... oh not too long. This world doesn't have forever any more, you know."
"...I doon't think I've seen you before..?" Martin admits once again a little nervously to the being as he holds a wooden spatula in one hand, trying to offer her a genuine smile but failing to hide that sense of unease on his features, "The Order has been very good to me, really, be assured," He attempts to assure as he kills the heat and retrieves a plate to place the finely-toasted bread and cooked rashers into it. He seems almost relieved as the body draws back, making that obvious, to himself at least, with a very, very quiet sigh of relief, "Perhaps you should ... arrange a meeting..? Like, we could meet up somewhere else, you know, I wasn't really.." A pause, "Expecting visitors today."
"Oh love," the creature says, with a flash of a smile that reveals the pearly white fangs, behind blood-red lips. "If I'd asked for a meeting, I quite believe you'd have refused. But now you know me..." At least a little bit. With the plate piled high with food, she reaches out her hands to claim it from Martin, and immediately begins to eat. Hopefully he wasn't planning on keeping any of that for himself. The first rasher is nibbled, and then the second as she watches him thoughtfully. "So I suppose that can be arranged," she finally agrees, as she licks a bit of bacon grease off one finger. This is not a creature worried with proper ettiquette.
She looks over Martin once more, gaze sweeping from hair to feet and back to meet his eyes. There, for a moment, is a flash of red that simmers in her otherwise dark gaze, and her smile grows richer, deeper with some shared secret. "I think you'll accept, now."
With the last rasher of bacon snagged just before her form starts to melt away entirely once more, there's a cooed, "Don't disappoint me, love. I don't like being disappointed..."
Martin doesn't seem to resist the plate being snatched away, nor object as the being just starts to gobble its contents down, at most seeming just content that her attention is now not focused solely on him, but shared in between the food and him. He manages another nervous little smile, "Well- yeah! It was lovely to meet you, Nadija... hope you enjoy the food," He offers as he takes a subtle step back, trying to look like as much of a good lad as he can in his boxers, "Oh, yeah, I don't like being disappointed either, like, I can totally relate. We'll get it arranged, promise," He assures, perhaps a little awkwardly.
"Mmm..." The purr is all that's left of her, and then even that is gone. So is Martin's plate and the last of the food that was on it, unfortunately. Hopefully, it wasn't part of an irreplaceable set. But now the man is alone, with that odd memory that's clearly left him uncomfortable... will she be in touch? And what sort of time frame does an entity like that even follow?