It was her melodrama that he enjoyed the most, her natural stage presence, the way she’d t
It was her melodrama that he enjoyed the most, her natural stage presence, the way she’d turn anything into a performance. She seemed to know when it was appropriate, when to play it up, and when to bite her creative tongue. A simple request, casually asked, was often met with a mock faint, her entire body seemingly collapsing under the sheer weight of the stress such a simple task required. She’d fan her brow, adopt a mock Southern accent, and cry bloody murder. It was entertaining, then, for him to remain deadpan and stoic, a half amused smile gracing his lips, but nothing else indicating either tolerance or approval of such flamboyant behaviour. Occasionally it would garner a punishment, but it was punishment in name only. There were other times, when the request wasn’t a request, but an order, that she would know to cow such excessive behaviour, slipping into line almost instantaneously. It wasn’t really her melodrama he enjoyed so much, but rather her precise judgement. Knowing when, and how, to behave. When to entertain, and when to obey. A priceless quality. -- source link
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