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She’s shrugging /hard/. You can’t tell if Lifa is angry or scared or both.
Lifa: I like tits. You can tell. I’m a connoisseur of tits, I’ve studied them like a kung fu master. I’ve already seen ten thousand million tits. See?
She’s showing Lucinda what looks like an acrylic model of two very floaty balls- wait, those are boobs.
Lifa: I use these to set up the angles and then adjust them so that the falloff of the breasts looks realistic. The ones you find on the market gloss over a lot of the details and some are straight-up rocks, so I made these babies myself. Touch them.
ರೃ Lucinda: No.
Thank fuck you left Felicia behind, again.
Lifa: Do you still think I want to fuck you? Or be your girlfriend? Or whatever? What else would I want from you? Your money? Your status? Your fame? I’m satisfied with my community, they’ve been very respectful.
There is desperation in Lifa’s voice… yet that robotic serenity remains in Lucinda’s.
ರೃ Lucinda: I simply do not know what to say. I do not know how to react to this situation.
Like a train arriving, Lifa starts slowing down. She was bringing Lucinda a mannequin with both legs spread wide open- but she keeps it.
ರೃ Lucinda: …I need time to think. I don’t know how much.
Lifa: O-of course! Take your time!
But Lucinda glances at Lifa… and turns toward the innocent door.
ರೃ Lucinda: I’m taking my leave.
Lifa: ……don’t you want the mammoth?
Lucinda isn’t looking at her… which is convenient because, once again, Lifa looks fucking miserable. Not even the mammoth is enough to keep Lucinda here.
