duplicitymemes | TDM #4 ( revised )

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TDM #4 ( revised )

« « « TEST DRIVE MEME » » »

« « « HERE WE ARE AGAIN

It's discouraging to think how many people are shocked by honesty and how few by deceit. Yet, solace is found in the lies we tell each other, comforted by the peace of knowing that we're not alone in our depravity, and once on this path, sin itself becomes the lesser of two evils masked in a cloud of normalcy.

This is how Duplicity has functioned since the beginning. The divide of power and social standing is overt in that Dominants influence the decisions made both publicly and privately while Submissives cater to the rules presented to them. It is the way of Duplicity to assign random designations at birth with no leeway in altering what has been given. Climate in the Up is far stricter than that of the Down; violating outlined personas for a Dominant or Submissive while in full view of others is punished by degree of infraction. In the Down, many tend to turn a blind eye to these sorts of offenses.

To counteract the discovery of the Deceit Gene – a natural "negative" response to all stimuli – the L.I.E.S. program was founded. The program had been designed to introduce new subjects to the current environment and test for the Deceit Gene through immersion in Duplicity's standing society. Sexual impulses and encounters increase the chances of detecting the gene within these individuals. Participants are typically released from L.I.E.S. after a year; however, results have remained unsatisfactory and testing still continues.

You’re here! Finally! Welcome to Duplicity.

After choosing a door and stepping through to the other side, the first thing that greets you are the enthusiastic faces of people in medical scrubs and pristine lab coats. Their enthusiasm translates to eagerness as they strip you of your clothes to perform a thorough examination—you will be healed, bathed, and given a paper gown to wear until your items can be processed and delivered to your residence later in the evening. You are also given a device that accesses the network as well as the time and location of orientation.

If you enter Duplicity into the Up, congratulations! You’re a Dominant, which means you are immediately picked up by a limo after processing and taken to your highrise. Here, it is two Dominants per floor with separate apartments. If you enter Duplicity into the Down, congratulations! You’re a Submissive, which means you are directed towards public transportation with the address of the motel you’ll be living in. Here, it is two Submissives per room with a shared common space for all rooms.

Enjoy your free time until orientation! Participation is mandatory by all new and old arrivals.

Oh, and one more thing. It's fucking cold. Better bundle up.

» » » LIES TRAVEL IN COMPANY

After stepping through the door and participating in orientation, LIERS are assembled together in the Up for a tour of Duplicity in its entirety. Seats are in pairs and randomly assigned to Dominants and Submissives alike. Traveling from Fiddler's Square, the train journeys through various parts of the Up, showcasing society and examples of lifestyle. Along the way, frequent stops are made; a variety of passengers can be seen exiting and entering the doors. A Dominant with a kneeling Submissive takes a seat near the front of the train at one stop. A small group of Submissives board and sit closer to the LIERS at another, all seemingly content in their roles. As the tour continues through the Up, the train passes close to the Market and White Wall Bridge and zips by North Park before heading into the Down and bypassing Red Wall Bridge and South Park.

The train makes a "final" stop at Riddler's Square, where inhabitants of the Down are instructed to return to their temporary housing. Those who live in the Up are permitted to stay on the train and revisit the same locations while returning.

« « « END IN THE DISCORD

While the societal climate between Dominants and Submissives remains somewhat neutral throughout Duplicity, there has been the occasional whisper of defiance and call for equality. Yet, demonstrations and visible proof of this unhappiness spreads faster by word of mouth on a day exactly when you need it most.

Welcome to Autonomy, a "traveling" nightclub that is never in the same place twice. People wanting to attend only learn of its lucrative location and password hours before it opens for business. Tonight, I choose the third door will get you inside and into the temporary freedom club Autonomy has to offer. In this circle, there are no assigned designations and no consequences for taking a role that isn't the one given by society. So, a Dominant may become the Submissive they've always wanted to be—or vice versa. Dominants and Submissives alike are able to mingle without repercussion and be themselves. Food, drinks, and private areas for more intimate – or if your preference is sexual – encounters are provided. Donations are accepted at any point during the night to further Autonomy's attempts of spreading the fulfillment that comes from being untitled.

On the night you choose to visit, Autonomy is holding a random lottery for temporary connections. When entering, you have the choice of submitting your name into this drawing to be paired with someone else in the club regardless of designation. A short while later, a message will pop up on your device with the name and information of your partner, and whether or not you choose to meet them is purely at your discretion. Having more than one connection isn't completely unusual either.

» » » TABLE IT FOR LATER

Gratification of being a successful Dominant or Submissive isn't necessarily simple. Learning curves are to be made, and mistakes will happen. Led by a Dominant and Submissive couple – Miriam and Victoria, who have been paired for twenty-two years – a monthly meeting for unattached Dominants and Submissives is held in the conference room of Morning Wood motel in the Down. The meeting starts a few minutes after nine and has no designated end time. The couple introduce themselves and explain the purpose of the meeting: learn the proper method for a new kink and possibly find your perfect partner. The space is intimate and well-stocked with refreshments.

To begin, Victoria, while blindfolded, balances on her hands and knees with her back perfectly level. Her partner, when ready, places various items on the level surface–a full cup, a plate. The Submissive is meant to hold the items until the Dominant believes she's reached her limit. The exercise is one of trust and understanding. The demonstration is a short one, followed by Miriam removing the blindfold and soothing her Submissive. The words are whispered low and with care, clearly a method that is specific to this couple. The process is concluded with the pair handing out workups, videos, and answering questions. Anyone wishing to practice Purposeful Submission can do so in the open room with a random volunteer, aided by the couple, or can find someone to take to one of the rented rooms. Sex may follow any scene but is not necessarily included. Experimenting with unattached Dominants and Submissives allows for new relationships to form.

« « « MOD & OOC NOTES

Please read carefully.

On each Test Drive Meme, there will be a section noting character roles based on birthdays; these will vary each TDM. On an IC level, character will still have gone through the doors but assignments OOCly are still randomized. When applying, there is a section of the application that denotes whether the character chose "left" or "right". When participating on the TDM, there will be a third option. Players may link either a top level or a thread (five or more comments from their character) from the TDM and title the link as "Door Pass". This means that the player is choosing to take the designation that they were randomly assigned on the TDM, rather than taking the designation of a door. If the player decides to select a door rather than use the pass, then they are trying their luck; they may get the same designation they had on the TDM or the opposite. Once the application is submitted, players can't change their choice.

To assign roles to characters for this TDM, use the following guide. All characters who have blue eyes or one blue eye and another color are Submissives. All characters who have brown eyes or one brown eye and another color are Dominants. Characters with any other color eyes are Dominants. To use this TDM as a door pass please link this on your app and place whether it is Dominant or Submissive.

Please remember to mark any necessary content, and have fun!!

» » » MAIN NAVIGATION « « «

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

[Again, there's the sound of Julian's lazy loose laughter as Geralt makes his dry joke, and it's obvious the other man's interest in his tale pleases him, makes him happy. Sprawled out in his seat, he looks the very picture of drunken relaxation.]

Hah! It would have been more believable, one large bat. I suppose it's the way I dress that does it. Perhaps they mistook me for a vampire.

[His grin is as loose and sprawling as the rest of him, and the other man's soft huff of laughter doesn't escape his attention, only makes him beam all the brighter.]

It wasn't the most sensible place to hide me, was it? I suppose, amidst all the panic, dear Mazelinka didn't quite think that part through. It was after she released me from my boozy prison that I got the eye patch, actually. She gave it to me to cover my eye, make sure I didn't spread panic in any port we happened to pass through.

[The part of the story he leaves out is his own fast ascending fear in the wake of finding himself in the Count's room, unable to remember what had happened, being swiftly whisked into the cells and marked with the murderer's brand. The guilt and terror and sick self-hatred that plagued him for the last three years as he tried to recall whether he'd done the dead or not. But those things aren't much fun to talk about, and don't fit the image of the debonair anti-hero he's trying to conjure up.

So he says nothing of that, instead leans over in his seat until he's conspirational-close to his new drinking companion.]

I like that you didn't ask whether or not I did it.

Edited 2019-01-16 12:04 (UTC)

[His efforts to have Geralt see him as debonair are working quite well. The anti-hero part, slightly less so, as Geralt’s assessment of Julian is simply that he’s a well-meaning man put into a difficult situation that he dealt with to the best of his ability. He’s capable of reading between the lines, recognising there are struggles, pain, and fear he isn’t mentioning, but that’s what swapping tales is about: indulging in the best representation of yourself.

He regards Julian curiously when he leans in, an eyebrow arched.]

It wouldn’t bother me if you had. I've seen better men experience worse deaths for less than the deeds of this Count of yours. But you made your innocence of the crime quite clear, and it would be amiss of a hired killer to throw doubts and accusations upon you.

[He’s killed people himself for less. Monsters come in all shapes and sizes.]

And - [He leans just a touch closer.] It would be bloody impolite.

[He looks thoughtful at first, as Geralt makes his proclamation-- it's a fair one, and he knows Lucio to have been a bonafide tyrant, has seen him on the battlefield and knows how bloody-minded the man could be, and then there are all the casual cruelties he inflicted on the city, his lack of assistance in the flooded district, how the bodies had piled in the streets whilst he feasted at the palace, the things he'd done to Julian himself. And yet, he'd still spent the last three years torturing himself over the possibility that he had killed the man, had come back to Vesuvia for answers and to finally pay with his life for his crimes. But whilst there are still holes in his memory, holes he'd been hoping his date with the Hanged Man would reveal, he is aware of his own innocence now, at least in that regard. That he didn't incinerate Lucio that night.

The thoughtfulness breaks around another of his smiles when Geralt makes his closing statement, though, his brief moment of solemn musing lifting.]

Quite.

[He goes to place one elbow on the hand-rest that separates them, almost misses, then drops his chin into his open palm.]

But now, I believe, it's your turn. I like hearing a good story almost as much as I enjoy telling one.

'Good' is too high an expectation for the quality of my story telling. But a story for a story, as I said, so I’ll try to the best of my ability.

[He has fought so many monsters over the years that there are hundreds of tales he could tell. To select one worthy of being told is a difficult process; after a while, they all kind of just melded together for Geralt, but he eventually decides upon the Striga of Wyzim.]

One of my best known tales is that of the Striga of Wyzim – not through choice, mind you; a bard companion of mine included it in his works without my knowing and has been continuing with this tradition since discovering I’ll only threaten to smack him around the ear for it. But I digress. The story.

I should first explain what a striga is: it is, simply put, the result of a powerful curse being put on a woman. It turns them into a beast that relishes all the things one can expect from beasts: killing, feasting, and the dark. The appearance of one is not unlike a bear, though considerably more hideous, and with considerably longer teeth and claws. The striga in this instance was the daughter of a king, who conceived her through an immoral union.

[He decides to spare Julian the exact details of how the daughter came to be.]

I was tasked with breaking the curse by spending the night with the striga. Or rather, I was given the job after years of death and people turning tail at the sight of the thing. I would also be permitted to kill the girl, should I find myself unable to break the curse, with the stipulation that I was to let myself be considered a failure and banished from the city for this.

I set out with the intention of turning that hideous creature into a young girl, who would have been fourteen at the time, for that is how long she resisted all attempts to free her of either her life or the curse. I made my preparations. As these things go, a man - most likely the man responsible for the curse - stepped out of the dark while I was readying and tried to stop me. First with coin, and then with an attempt against my life, so I kept him in close quarters through use of rope until the striga appeared and had him make a distraction of himself.

[He pauses briefly, considering how to go about describing the fight.]

The beast put up a good fight. I put up a better one, in no little part due to my still having the ability of higher thought. Ultimately, I compelled it into retreating with a roar. Not quite as simple as a roar, I’ll admit, but to any spectator, that is all it would have been. The beast ran and I descended into the crypt to wait out the rest of the night inside the sarcophagus in which the child had spent her days.

Morning arrived, and there was the young girl, unconscious upon the floor of the crypt. A little dirty and slim, but otherwise like any other fourteen year old girl. I checked her for remnants of the curse, and I discovered one when she lashed me in the neck with her talons.

[He gestures to the long, jagged lines on the side of his neck. One is given the impression of very deep wounds.]

My method of ceasing further attacks on my person was to bite her on the neck, which seemed only fair after she had torn into mine. Her growls subsided into whimpers, and then, silence. I fell silent shortly after and woke up some time later with a very sore neck.

Edited (I forgot some words) 2019-01-16 15:06 (UTC)

[And perhaps the man believes himself a poor storyteller, but Julian listens with a clear and rapt interest that can be discerned through the focus of his one visible inebriation-hazed eye. It sounds...fantastical, the talk of girls who are beasts and battles that end with a roar, has the quality of a fairytale for someone not of the same world.

Which makes it all the more interesting to him, if he's honest. Geralt even has battle scars to prove the tale, which gives the whole thing an extra layer of authenticity, of interest.]

Well, that all sounds quite frightful. I don't think I'd want to run into one of those striga things...lucky such a beast doesn't exist where I hail from...at least, I don't think it does. I've never seen one.

[He sits just a little straighter in his seat as the train rattles past one stop and onto the next.]

So what happened? Did she survive in the end, after the bite? Did she uh, did she get to live a normal life?

It would be quite the feat if I managed to take a life with my jaw alone, but no, she survived both the curse and my retaliation.

[At most he would have left her with some scarring. More mental than physical, if he was to guess.]

Despite achieving the ideal outcome, I’m afraid being stuck in the mind of a beast for so long left her mentally impaired. She wasn’t fit to be a king’s daughter when she emerged from that crypt, and if the absence of her in the public eye since then is any indication, she never reached a stage in her recovery where she could be a viable continuation of the royal line. But she is the king’s daughter all the same, and there’s no reason to believe he doesn’t treat her as such.

[It’s as close to a happy ending as he can give Julian. It’s hopeful, if nothing else.]

[Not the perfect happy ending perhaps, but Julian nods all the same, seemingly satisfied.]

Hmmm, probably for the best. It sounds like she had enough excitement for one lifetime, could probably do without all that court intrigue and political maneuvering.

[No sooner has he said it then there's the flash of his smile, one brow arching high.]

And you had a bard sing about you! What a feat...I've never heard any sing about me.

[he sounds just a touch wistful.]

Although I did once accidentally walk onto the stage of a community theatre, mid-production. It was a play about the night of the masquerade, where of course the villainous Doctor Devorak was the anti-hero of the hour. He wasn't ah, well as you can probably imagine, he wasn't very well liked amongst his people.

[Walking into a play about yourself? Geralt would have been mortified regardless of the contents of the play. He can barely stand people singing about him, let alone enacting his life.]

My sympathies. [Julian doesn’t sound entirely (at all) displeased with the prospect of being the subject of a bard, though, so he adds:] Should that bard of mine ever make an appearance here, I’ll be sure to direct him to you for inspiration. You’d be able to… enjoy a better depiction of yourself, if slightly exaggerated. With any luck, he’d lose interest in singing about my deeds and romantic conquests upon discovering an exciting new subject.

[Just thinking about Dandelion waxing poetic about his activities in this place is enough to fill him with a dreadful embarrassment. It would be much harder to escape recognition in a place as concentrated as this.]

[Naturally Julian, dramatic thing that he is, quite enjoyed the whole thing, threw himself convincingly into the villainous role. Whilst talking to him for any length of time may quickly put paid to the idea he could be any kind of villain, he can keep it up on stage, or over short periods without too much questioning.

The train rattles on into the night, and Julian seems to brighten at the mention of the bard.]

Oh, do you think he would? I've always hoped there would be at least one song about me, someday, you know, even if it's one about the cloud of bats. Although I suppose I shouldn't go wishing your friend into a situation he may not like.

[He's aware that his own proclivities put him in the likely rare position of not being overly concerned with the whole situation here.]

I expect he’d have fewer complaints than most here. The man embodies the primary features of this place - lechery and buffoonery.

[Geralt loves him, really.]

But, as he's unlikely to appear, might I satisfy you with a limerick?

[They have a few more minutes before the train reaches their stop. Enough time for Geralt to compose something that would make Dandelion ashamed of him.]

Lechery and buffoonery, eh? He sounds like fun, I'd like to meet him.

[He says it, but then he's sitting up straighter in his seat a moment later, claps his hands together once, loudly, exuberant. Enough to draw a few looks from the scant other passengers on the train, but they soon look away again, returning to their own business or conversations.]

A limerick! Oh, I'm game, yes. I'd love to hear one.

[Despite Geralt’s complete lack of lyrical talent, he doesn’t have to do much thinking before providing the offered limerick. All those nights spent listening to Dandelion murmur about rhymes had finally found some use.]

There once was a doctor who felt flat,
For his towns people thought him a rat.
And then came the day,
That he said 'hooray',
For they now thought him a swarm of bats.

[As far as limericks go, it's... not great, but it's about the standard one can expect from a man as lacking in musical talent as Geralt. Particularly after he's downed five glasses of gin.]

[And perhaps it isn't the most perfect limerick ever told, but Julian has never had one written about him and has consumed a good deal of gin himself. As such, he seems delighted, his smile a bright broad arc across his face, and once again he brings his hands together quite loudly in a gesture of his appreciation.]

Hah! Bravo, bravo, perhaps your friend should be in fear for his title, if he ever does put in an appearance here. The swarm of bats...it gets me every time.

[Geralt snorts softly at the suggestion. Even if he was musically inclined, his voice isn’t suited for bard work; it’s much too rough and monotonous.]

I thank you, and I’m pleased you enjoyed it. In the unlikely event I think up further limericks, I’ll keep in mind to share them with you.

[Very, very unlikely, but at least Julian will have the one attempt to keep for the rest of his days.

And with that attempt done, they’ve reached their destination. The squeal of the breaks is an unpleasant sound for someone of Geralt’s sensitive hearing to be subjected to, but it never takes long for it to be swallowed up by the hubbub of people standing out of their seats, retrieving their luggage, hushing their children and murmuring amongst themselves. When the commotion starts (and Geralt has noticed it always starts long before they've come to a complete halt), he's quick to join in, rising from his chair and steadying himself with a pole grip. He keeps his other hand free to be used as support should Julian find himself stumbling again.]

[This seems to satisfy him, quite oblivious to Geralt's own misgivings, but before he can say any more on the subject they're pulling into their stop, and on seeing the other man rise from his seat, Julian rises with him. He takes a stumbling step forward and - laughing at his own clumsiness - moves to grasp Geralt's offered arm as they move out with the rest of the evening's small crowd into the bitter cold of the night.]

Is your accommodation from here? I'm beginning to fear that if I don't indulge again soon, I'll begin to sober up. And we don't want that, now, do we.

[Though despite the jovial words, he doesn't look to be in danger of sobering up any time soon.]

[Geralt casts a rather pointed look at the arm Julian is using for support. If he wanted to convince Geralt of approaching sobriety, he should’ve had the forethought to at least attempt walking on his own. But that sort of foresight probably requires more sobriety than Julian currently has.]

If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer not to have to clean vomit off my floors. I just received them.

[He directs Julian toward an alleyway far out of the way of any streetlamps, so dark that one is prevented from seeing what sits beyond it. The Up is safe enough that Geralt doesn’t have to have any reservations about entering such a place without a weapon.]

[And in the wake of that rather pointed statement Julian gasps dramatically, flings up his free arm to clutch at his coat, directly over his heart. The sudden motion unbalances him slightly, causing him to lean against Geralt that little bit more.]

Are you casting aspersions on my ability to hold my liquor? You wound me.

[He says, though it's clearly a matter of theatrics, that beneath all of that he doesn't appear to be wounded at all. He allows himself to be led into the increased darkness of the alley, his voice dipping low now as he moves from a pretense at hurt to one of concern.]

And what's this now, leading me into dark alleys in the dead of night. Should I be afeard for my safety?

[But the crook of one thick eyebrow, the angle of his oncoming smile, all clearly indicate that he's teasing, that the gin in his system has obviously left him silly and playful.]

Casting aspersions on my ability to ensure your safety? You wound me.

[There’s nothing to fear in the alleyway except perhaps the potential to walk through garbage. Geralt nonetheless manoeuvres himself so he’s walking in front. Partly out of habit, and partly because he doesn’t want Julian to kick or trip on something.]

I’ll strive to keep you intact through to the end. Your toes, in particular, as you’re liable to kick something in this dark.

[He glances at Julian just in time for Julian to see his pupils dialating like those of a cats. He can see just as well as one, too, as they head deeper into the dark of the alleyway.]

[And in truth, there is no fear in him-- he's frequented many a dark alley in his time, many a shady location, and if anything this relatively affluent area is far less risky than the kinds of situations he's accustomed to. It is particularly hard to make out the shapes of their surroundings in the dark though, when a man has only one eye currently at his disposal, one eye that is already seeing things through a gin-induced haze.]

Lucky I ran into you then, isn't it? Who knows where I'd have ended up otherwise.

[Asleep in a gutter in the Down probably, or under a table in the bar they were frequenting. Or some situation entirely worse than that. And he does catch the quick dilation of the other man's eyes as he turns to look at him, knows what it's likely to mean. Allows himself to be led along with some certainty, safe in the assumed knowledge that Geralt will be much better at maneuvering his way around than Julian himself currently is.]

I’ll spare you the educated guesses I could make.

[The walk through is uneventful, punctuated once or twice with Geralt pulling Julian out of the way of an obstacle and little more. Well, that’s not entirely true; there was a cat, but Geralt made a face at it and it promptly fled. A face Julian wouldn’t have been privy to, and he’s grateful for that, for baring one’s teeth at cats looks quite silly.

The alleyway opens out into a street that is occupied almost entirely by apartment complexes. Some are clearly more upper-class than others, and Geralt heads for one that looks reasonably modest.]

Before we enter, I should warn you that the security here likes to questions those entering with submissives with which they have no contract. And there's no back entrance.

[He's seen it happen a few times, but perhaps if they're fast and quiet they'll be able to avoid prying eyes.]

[And Julian likely chatters aimlessly the entire way, pausing only once they begin to reach the apartment complex Geralt has been housed in. It seems reasonably modest in comparison with some of the surrounding buildings, and yet still positively luxurious when one compares it with the dive Julian has been put up in. He notices it, but only with a tipsy kind of indifference.

Geralt makes his pronouncement though and for the moment it draws all of Julian's attention. He nods, expression thoughtful, clearly giving it some consideration.]

Time for some subtle subterfuge, then? If I seem especially innocuous and obedient perhaps they'll minimise their questioning. I'll just...walk quietly behind you, and you can do any required talking.

[And believe it or not, despite his chatty mouth and his obvious flamboyance, this is something he knows how to do.]

[This is the most apparent their roles in this place has been. The submissive and dominant. Slave and owner - or potential owner, rather. To have to indulge these roles, even briefly, is a thought that fills Geralt with displeasure, but he sets his jaw and heads on inside regardless.]

Very well.

[He’s not going to make them stand outside in the cold just to avoid some discomfort. And besides, maybe they’ll get lucky. It is late, after all, and the security team is probably more interested in lounging than performing their job.]

[Very well, he says, and Julian moves to follow him inside in silence, holding his tongue for the first time since the two of them engaged in their interactions this evening. He walks a respectful step behind and slightly to one side of the older man, eye cast down to the ground. He manages to convey through silence and body-language alone an air of unquestioning obedience.

It's a position he slips into with a remarkable kind of ease.]

[The lack of exuberance from Julian is striking. Geralt eyes him as they walk and takes note of how very well he plays his role: either through the ease of an actor, or he’s had to do this before. The latter wouldn’t surprise Geralt considering the story with the Count. It's often wise to put on an obedient front with such people.

Despite their efforts, they're stopped before they can make their escape into the elevator. A man wielding a phone twice the size of any normal device waves them down in the middle of the lobby. He only asks two questions. The first: their names, which Geralt promptly provides. The second: if the submissive in his company is one he is intending to court, and if so, when might they be drawing up a contract?

Geralt immediately starts missing the silence.]

There is a manner of courting. No date for a contract has been discussed.

[The man rapidly inputs something into the device, nodding along, and asks for additional details.]

‘Additional details’? I just told you for what purpose he is here. What are you expecting, exactly – a detailed account of his potential role in my sex life? It doesn’t concern you. Put that in your device and shove it up your ass.

[Perhaps they should have just run for the stairs and hoped for the best.]

[Ah, damn-- he thinks it, but doesn't say it. Stands as quietly and unobtrusively as it's possible for a 6'4 redhead with an eyepatch and rather dramatic attire to possibly be, leaves the talking in Geralt's hands--

--which is, quite possibly, a bad idea. He may have managed it better himself, or at the very least wouldn't have said that. As for what to do now, this might all have been a bit smoother if he weren't somewhat inebriated and had been in the city a little longer, with enough time to get a more thorough understanding of where to push and where to pull, what exactly is and isn't expected of his role. He could step in and intervene but they may not take too kindly to someone of his social standing talking over or around those placed above him. He could just keep quiet and hope it doesn't get any worse, of course, and he does now wonder if the better plan might not have been to walk in like he owned the place, as though he wasn't a submissive at all.

Or just gone back to his place to begin with.

Alas, those options are no longer available. In the end he decides to take a chance on trying to smooth things over-- at worst, he suspects the only one who'll have to pay for it is him. And that's fine, it's always fine. He suspects its how he came to be in this position to begin with-- not arbitrary, but quite deserved.

He keeps his voice pitched soft and low, but answers all the same.]

I'm uh, I'm very sorry for all the trouble I'm evidently causing. But obviously one would wish to ah, to thoroughly make use of the goods in the comfort of their own personal space before knowing whether they'd be - that is, I'd be - a good fit for one's lifestyle. So we're here...to do that. And then make an assessment from there.

[And he smiles in a way that is intended to be disarming. Isn't sure whether he ought to prepare for being ignored or struck or shouted at, to get thrown out or be allowed to stay.]

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