Mr. Dempsey’s little protest fell on Poppy with a ring to it that made the brunette turn towards him more fully, the whole of her attention on the gentleman. He looked… perfect affected. While there was not, in essence, a curl or button out of place on his usually agreeable person, there seemed something about him she couldn’t quite place. Poppy often liked to admire Mr. Dempsey from afar when she spotted him across the dance floor or whilst she was mid-conversation. He was a dashing sort with endearing mannerisms. Everything about him made her smile, even when he was not talking to her, directly. To see him here now and so much in earnest almost made her blush. Instead, Poppy smiled at the congenial brunette. “I know you are,” she trilled, gently. “Sincere, I mean. It’s what I admire so much about you Mr. Dempsey, in this world of half-truths and coquettish dalliances.” She was surprised, but not put off, as he took her hand then. It felt a touch forward, but Poppy trusted Mr. Dempsey in a way she rarely trusted most gentlemen. So, setting her sights once again more fully upon him, she set her drink aside and placed her now free hand atop his own, holding hers.
The response he gave pulled a brilliant smile from the diminutive debutant. Oh, how splendid this plan was! Poppy could always be convinced into an evening of delightful, splendid, enchanting fun. “Alright then sir,” she replied, a teasing grin flickering across her face. “You’ve set a tall order, but I find myself inclined to find out if it can be met. You do have quite the track record for memorable and delightful,” the girl laughed, gently. The word romantic skipped almost entirely from her notice, or was forced aside, as Poppy felt something in her chest constrict. So she settled upon the adventure of it. “What is it that you’d like to do Mr. Dempsey? I’m all yours.”
© Fox