#«🦋» m; Seifer

[sharpxshootin]

( @youngrevolutionary​ continued from x )

  Irvine posted up across from the man who might have been hiding a killer hangover behind those dark-tinted glasses, or might have just felt like being a little extra stylish today — either way the amusement was evident on the purse of his lips.

  “Naw, baby, when I pop the question you’ll know,” he teased him lowly, leaning back in his seat with a drape of his arm over the balcony railing, casting a quick glance down at the article in Seifer’s hands. Nothing particularly juicy.

  “Come on now, I wouldn’t say that. Maybe it’s just changed a little from what it used to be, yeah? If there was even a chance at happily ever after, wouldn’t you take it? Or are you tellin’ me you’re too afraid of failing to try,” he challenged with a twinge of mischief in his eye, knowing that implication likely wouldn’t sit well with the blonde across from him. 

[sharpxshootin]

( @hyperionknight continued from x )

It had been business as usual in the common room, the afternoon news droning on in the background when suddenly the tone took a violent shift, tickers changing, anchormen stuttering over their prompts. Irvine glanced up from the gun he’d been cleaning on the table to the screen hung from the wall in the corner, his jaw going slack before blue eyes widened. It was a simultaneous reaction, all of them scrambling for the remote to turn up the volume, Seifer reigning triumphant.

Those words sunk into him, weighing him down as inch by inch he folded on himself, arms crossing on the back of the couch to support his weight as he peered up with bated breath. “I don’t think the Administration knew anything about this, pal...” he murmured, distant thoughts clouding his eyes.

“Selphie’s in Trabia,” he observed quietly after a moment, betraying his innermost worries. Squall was in transit too. The rest of them were stationed safely here in Balamb, however he couldn’t help but to wonder how long that would last, considering who was last to aid the Timber resistance...

[sharpxshootin]

Seifer walks in, fashionably late to his orphanmate's birthday. He leans against the doorframe, hiding something in his jacket. "So, I hate birthdays..." He checks down the hall, eyes scan the room before he reveals he's holding a hidden bottle as black as obsidian. "Got us some red-label Sylkis if you're in for a bit of fun... it's imported from Centra~"

⇚( 🦋)⇛ Leave it to Seifer to show up to a birthday party and announce how much he hated birthdays. To be honest, it would have been a disappointment had he done any less, a smirk unfurling on the marksman’s lips. “Clearly you should try harder to have less friends,” he quipped back good-naturedly, glancing down at the covertly stashed bottle as it was brought into private view between them. 

Brows lofted high, blue eyes drifting between the obsidian glass and the measly, cheap, commercially brewed bottle of beer in his hand that they’d picked up to satisfy the masses. “Oh shit,” he muttered under his breath, giving the other a clearly impressed look, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure the party hadn’t caught whiff of the good stuff. 

“You trying to one-up my girlfriend, Almasy? Because I’ve gotta tell ya, she greeted me in nothing but a red bow this evening, so as far as attractive red labels go… both of you are going to fuck me up pretty good,” he admitted with just a touch of apprehension. God he wanted it, but the aftermath would not be pretty for either of them — that much he knew. ⇚( 🦋)⇛