virtueofsanityx

[virtueofsanityx]

a flash of something. brief, hazy, gone again. not quite a vision, not quite a memory, the house wants to speak it's peace, to talk about what it suffered and witnessed. beatrice isn't in the habit of letting those things take root. she doesn't like to know more than she has to. after all, it's all about the paycheck at the end of the day. she has bills to pay. get in, get out. the unexpected travel companion is an interesting complication that she's chosen to ignore for the most part.

an eyebrow lifts, and eyes twist to look at him halfway up the staircase. "when no is a stupid answer, there's not a reason to accept it." she offers, a shrug. a dismissal. he's free to leave any time he wants. he didn't have to come this far, made the choice all on his own. she had simply asked for directions.

"shame, really. this place could be a nice getaway, if it wasn't such a hovel." she's already moved on, she's already walking away from the staircase, toward the little room just off the foyer, pressing against the door with careful fingers, feeling the way the house seems to tremble, maybe with excitement, maybe with anger. "they'll be upset that it's too haunted to salvage."

he’s halfway up the stairs by the time she’s lingering throughout the living room. “i can’t tell if you’re the ghost or everyone else is,” yeonsang knows not to touch anything by now. the idea of setting it on fire or destroying it is nothing but a waste to him; unless she thinks this is a passage to setting the tortured souls free. “if we do that, then we’d be harming the ecosystem.”

any other animals lingering, too. the thought of drawing more attention to an abandoned house is not on his list of things to do today, “it sounds like they know what they’re doing. let the professionals do what they do best.” raise the prices for everyone else in an already deserted area; it’s not like he pays the rent anyway. “anyone coming here is asking to be haunted.” them included. he’s wary of the stranger’s behavior. usually the weirdest person in the room. “but i feel like you’re not going to take no for an answer.”

he deflects the possibility of ghosts further when he notices the change in temperature drop. mesmerized by the resilience held in the younger woman. he speculates she’s somewhere near his own. “would it help if you took their belongings with you? maybe a piece of jewelry… a portrait.” which, in their case, doesn’t look very flattering. “scary portrait of the twins from the shining, anyone?”

[virtueofsanityx]

"oh, god no. i would never plan something this tacky. gold and hot pink? awful color scheme." binna's a cousin of a friend, someone invited because she has industry connections in the art world, because she could be someone, not because she is someone. all of this, the appearance, the occasional glance, the few times she's been approached and asked about the gallery she works at. it's all networking for a failing artist marrying a boring loser.

"probably with the secretary who's wearing something so obviously only a couple of shades off of white, if i had to guess." eyes land on the girl, looking pathetic near the supposedly happy couple. she's been that girl before. sad because she loved someone and they married someone else. she'd never be so blatant at the wedding itself, though. "what do you think the divorce papers will say in a year? irreconcilable differences, infidelity, or something else all together?"

seojun rinses down his glass and spits it into someone else’s. “i can be fun. but i’m not smart,” he runs his tongue over his teeth. “i’m just bold.” he didn’t know half the people here, to be honest. weddings weren’t his thing. as a divorced man, he’d only fancied a conversation out of the blue. “i thought you were the wedding planner,” he explains, a rolled up napkin underneath the weight of his hand.

they’d been sat together. either out of the idea that putting the most two crass people together was a blessing or a nightmare, he couldn’t decide. “asked me a question, gave you an answer. last time i checked, if a groom looks at her bride like that,” he unravels. “he’s-a-cheatin’,” the fork untouched, only picking at the cake before him. “but you didn’t hear it from me.”

[virtueofsanityx]

daisy's movements are slow, deliberate as she gets up and lets the world tilt in the way she knows it's going to. the whole place seems to move on it's axis, she watches as it shifts sideways even as she stands upright, and she shakes her head a little before dizzying and uneven steps lead her to the door behind him. "charge for what?"

the words make no sense even as she reaches out to unlock the door and shove it open, stumbling across the threshold with another giggle as she kicks her shoes off into the hallway and stumbles toward the couch. "the sweater?" finally, the connection in her mind hits. "i'm not charging you for the sweater. if you want it, you can just have it."

before he can actually respond, schmidt gets down on the ground and crawls away. “yes, of course—” of course he wants to be inside. all snuggled up on the floor when he’s not collecting bugs or grass onto his knees. the heat is killing him. “you’re a very hot woman and i’m a man who wants a sweater.”

normally he’s the one to ring the bell, but he doesn’t mind when it’s someone else. always good to have an ego. even if it means making a fool of someone else. he paws at the door, a slow and stirring way of standing up. “hey, how much do you charge?” if he had to guess it’d be no less than fifteen dollars. “highest i’ll go is fifty. take it or leave it.” it’s not like he has much. but in this economy, he’ll spend what he’s got.

you only live once. everything comes back eventually.

[virtueofsanityx]

"i'm not gonna leave you stranded without a car." because that's the reason. it has nothing to do with all the other reasons he lingers. the things actually keeping his feet rooted to the spot. june. that bright personality and air of not caring that lingers and sticks to his tongue like something too sweet to actually enjoy. she makes him feel less cynical, less bitter. maybe she does it on purpose. maybe she doesn't even realize.

either way, he doesn't move, just watches the kids, watches the animal that is gonna be eating his car's interior again soon, occasionally glances toward june with that soft expression he isn't even aware he's making. "i go to parties. i sell at them. make a good living off rich frat boys and drunk sorority girls, thank you very much. what do i need a party for, anyway? i don't celebrate my birthday."

to june’s amusement, marvin doesn’t seem to be as annoyed as she initially thought he was. she opens up a bag of crisps, “maybe that’s a sign for you to get new pants then, babe. it’s like a cat.” the more you try to stay away from it, the more it lingers.

“if you want to go home, be my guest.” she smiles. she knows there’s a part of him deep down that cares too much to leave. he indulges in this as much as she does; without as much carefree behavior she has within her. the goat prances around merrily with the children when it catches a glimpse of marvin’s dismay. “when are you gonna let me throw you a party? it could be just the two of us.” candy flies from a nearby pinata, to her surprise the animal stays under control. somewhat as cheery as the kids are.

[virtueofsanityx]

it's already starting. as she steps across the threshold, that feeling that she always tries to shake off, pretend isn't real. the crawling of a chill up her spine, like spectral fingers are dancing along her back and poking to get her attention. eyes dance across the place in careful observation disguised as pointed disinterest. people have told her, both professionally and personally, that it's all psychosomatic, all in her head. she's crazy. she's misguided. she's a con artist who's gotten a little too invested in the part she plays.

goosebumps rise up on her arms. doesn't exactly feel psychosomatic.

"never met 'em." she offers, running fingers along a shelf covered with dust so thick she could draw her name in it. eyes dance around and follow motes of the same dust floating through the air in snatches of light dancing around the space. the air is stale, the place hollow.

cold. unfeeling. dangerous.

"probably better to torch the place and be done with it. the new owners want to turn it into a bnb. hoping to make it classy, erase that nasty business and turn tragedy into luxury." feet echo across the floor as she steps in further, fingers dance along faded walls, feel the house all but breathing in shallow breaths. finally hosting people again. living ones, anyway. "i think they're gonna be disappointed by how bad business will be."

he discards of a bike in the nearest patch of grass. a careful yet careless approach to things. on one hand, he wanted to see what she would do. maybe she’d extort him, maybe she wouldn’t. it wouldn’t be the first time. “could be your last,” he tries not to bounce when the door unlocks with ease. maybe being a lock-picker comes naturally, “maybe we’ll find a few ghosts.”

he laughs. unbeknownst to him, it seems like that is exactly what she’s looking for. but he doesn’t believe in things like that. the dead and the undead. if they’re not underground, they’re here on earth. “echo!” the lights flicker before he can touch the switch. a creak and more underneath the floorboards.

some broken, some not. a peak of light gapes through the abandoned windows. dust accumulates on the windowpanes. he gleams at her over his shoulder, still not having pestered her on what her actual reason was. “did you know the people here? i reckon this must be a terrible day for you, if so.”

[virtueofsanityx]

the snacks are easy enough to get, and she makes sure to load up. everything they could possibly need or want. she knows his favorites, she knows her own favorites, and she tosses in a few extras, wild cards, for the adventure of it, barely able to carry everything as she heads into the theater and finds him, settles into the seat and starts splaying out the selection for him with a grin. "obviously. you are on my mind a majority of the time, silly goose. these are great seats. perfect view of the screen. no prying eyes..."

"um, duh. like that's even a real question." everyone knew that the best seats in the theater were in the back — perfect view of the screen and usually tucked away from most unless the movie was really packed. "alright, meet you in there." cain gives a nod before splitting off from hari to find their seats. once he sees her coming back into the room, he waves her down with a grin. "these seats okay?" eyes the goods in her arms and grins. "oh, you know me so well."

[virtueofsanityx]

a wild, impish smile appears on his face as the man seems to melt into his touch, feeling a thrill of power rise up his spine. everything inch of skin tingles with the kind of anticipation that feels too good to be true, like it isn't meant for him, and the moment is nearly perfect. he's leaning in, ready to deliver the silent kiss those pretty eyes had requested just a second before, when he feels the shift and the tug. a flash of annoyance crosses his features, the interruption frustrating, and without tearing his gaze away from theo, he reaches out to grab the offending hand, to twist it until he feels it at it's limit. one more twist and it'll probably break. "back off. we're in the middle of a moment, here and you're b.o. is ruinin' it." he holds that hand there for a second longer, tightens his grip before shoving it, and presumably the person, away, and then offers a soft laugh. "there's a table in the back corner. wanna go over there?"

Theo breathed out slowly as his eyes closed, taking the moment to relish in the feeling of Marvin's hands on him, forgetting the task of picking someone else out in the crowd. It was easy enough to shove everything else aside as he tilted his head, leading Theo to flutter his eyes back open to meet his gaze as intended. He hummed in an otherwise silent agreement, the grip he had on him making him feel like he was melting into his body. He licked over his lips, glance pointing down towards Marvin's own as he spoke to him. "Not very private here," he argued, fact solidified as a body collided into him, a stranger tugging at his shirt and Theo couldn't even offer him a mere look, his focus on Marvin and whether or not he'd give him up to another.

[virtueofsanityx]

"home? the night has barely begun, i'm not going home. besides, i haven't even picked up the man i'm dragging into bed with me tonight." a hand comes up, presses against his chest in a playful shrug as her body teeters dangerously on the edge of tipping over to the side. "silly." she giggles, a hiccup sneaking into it as she looks around the room. "and it's nearly my turn at karaoke, anyway. you can go home if you want, but you're missing out. i'm a great singer. and absolutely adorable. plus, i'm wearing my favorite lacy black underwear. the absolute cocktail of perfect evening right here."

huh. inho supposed she was right. maybe he was rather boring but if getting so trashed you couldn't tell you were having a conversation with your boss was fun then he'd gladly be counted out. he has to forgive her for blunt comments, can smell the drinks on her breath. the sickly sweet mixed of booze and something fruity. not even a hint of a smile falters his face at her words, though. only crosses his arms against his chest, a look of annoyance settling there. "mina, i do believe it's time you go home."

[virtueofsanityx]

the approach to the tub, a couple of steps by an normal metric, feels almost like a trek through the woods. long and uncertain, each step heavy on the floor as she finds footing in what she feels might be unfamiliar territory, even if the safety and security of her own home. by all metrics, this is the place in the world where she should feel at her most safe, her most comfortable. nothing is going to jump out and bite her here, as far as she's aware, and each corner of the place is one she fully knows and understands. but looking down at the man in her tub, it feels like the earth itself has tilted on it's axis, and that this is no longer just the safe place she's come to know her entire life. no, something else has become of it, a place where anything could implode at any moment.

and then, as he reaches to take her arm, and she readies to brace herself to help him up, instead she goes down, with a wicked shriek and flailing limbs as she tries to fight the fall, tries to steady herself and balance to no avail, hitting the water with a splash and feeling it rise up around her, still jerking and flailing and trying to break free from what she now assumes is his attempt to drown her in her own home, perhaps be rid of her for good. it takes a moment too long for everything to click as her head is still above water, as she can hear his voice trying to calm down her crying out and flailing about.

his arm is a steady presence around her waist as she tries to sit up, the slip on her now completely sheer as it drips with water, eyes wide and frantic as she looks at him with barely contained anger and indignation. she can feel him in the water, every inch of his skin in some kind of contact with every inch of hers. she's practically sitting on top of him in the water and the fluster and flush of her cheeks are nothing compared to the heat the rest of her is experiencing. "what on earth are you doing??? why did you do that? i'm soaked now!"

The sight of her, cheeks flushed, breath caught delicately between parted lips, it did unspeakable things to a man’s better judgment. She was opening before him, slowly, hesitantly, like a blossom in the uncertain warmth of spring. And heaven help him, Frank was the sun. He felt, somewhere deep and not entirely honorable, that it was cruel, this teasing, this delicate game he played with her. But words had never been his strong suit. I want you felt far too brutish, too bare. No, he expressed himself in glances held a second too long, in hands that lingered when they should not, in the faintest tilt of his mouth when she looked away. He couldn't say it, not yet. Instead, he would let this agonizing conversation pour out longer. "Forgive me," though his curved smile did not suggest much sincerity. He lifting his knuckles from the tepid water, gently nursing the blood from them with his lips.

He would be as patient for her as she needed, because similarly to her his heartbeat thrummed as violently in his chest as hers did. Like her, he was cautious to the world they were about to enter. If the two let themselves get carried away now, it would root into something deeply consuming. He wasn't sure that was something she wanted, not from someone like him, who felt so far away to her. Because once Frank's jaw locked onto something, something he truly wanted, he did not let go. His eyes bore into hers, wishing to unravel the complexities behind her hues, the glint in them as the light flickered against her face.

Frank couldn't help the Chesshire like smile that formed on his lips, so wicked and waiting, as she treaded for him, like a scared little cat, but... still, she came. And, he had tried. He bit his lip again, harder this time—enough to draw fresh blood, though it merely mingled with the smear already staining his mouth from the heel of his hand. He didn’t feel it. His breath caught in his throat. The world hushed around him, save for the soft, deliberate patter of her footsteps on the stone. Each one echoed louder than the last, reverberating through the hollow in his chest where his thoughts should have been. What was his plan, exactly? He didn't have one. A man so meticulous in every duel, every diplomatic turn of phrase when speaking with the Home Secretary of the western settlements, that man was gone now. Ellie had all the reason in the world to be weary, because once his hand was around her arm, he quickly tugged her towards his chest, looping his bare arm around her waist to stabilize her, as warmth encompassed them both in the tub. "You're alright, you're alright," he shushed, because he could imagine she had just had quite the scare

[virtueofsanityx]

open to: m/masc presenting 29+ with: cha so-yi (25, trust fund princess and training to be an olympic figure skater) plot: based on this, loosely

"i just think it's crazy, we're planning an entire wedding here. i never thought she'd be tied down by anyone, she's always been such a free spirit." so-yi laughs, a playful laugh that speaks of years of shared memories, wistful sighs, late night dream sharing. eyes linger on them, an eyebrow lifted playfully. "what about you? sad your little sister is beating you to the alter?"

[virtueofsanityx]

the moment of relief she feels as her hands are cut free is momentary, as the feeling that rushing back into them now that she isn't struggling and fighting against constants, and blood is free to rush back to them is a startling sensation that hurts more than she had anticipated. she winces, rubs at her wrists, but stands finally and stretches out her limbs in some attempt to start to feel human again. "sure, maybe that's your best interest. what's your bosses best interest, though? because something tells me that you're one of those follow orders guys, considering..." she trails off, for a moment simply watching him before waving a hand around them as if that completes her thought for her. "and anyway, what am i supposed to do? i mean, i'm not saying my head game is terrible, but using it to keep myself alive feels a little too sleezy for me. i like enjoying things like that, you know?"

This whole thing was spiraling fast and it was quickly becoming clear if something went more wrong it would be Oz left holding the bag. This was a big move for the club, and he knew from the jump it wouldn't be worth the risk, but he had learned to keep his mouth shut a long time ago. Now here he was. He sees her struggle against the restraints and after a quick mental calculation he pulls a switch blade from his pocket and cuts through her restraints. He crosses the shop and digs up a bottle of tequila with a couple of shot glasses. "The press won't have to know shit," Oz says as his face twists into a scowl. He was keen on keeping this mess as contained as possible. "Here's the thing... it's in my best interest to keep you alive. If anything goes down. It'll be pinned on me, and I don't plan on rolling over and taking it."

[virtueofsanityx]

"i remember a long night in a casino bar, winning a couple of hands of blackjack, and you hitting on me. after that? not much. woke up here with a ring on and that scratch i mentioned. didn't know you got so physical in bed, but i suppose it should just be a testament to how good i am, hm?" dam is definitely not taking this situation as seriously as it warrants, probably seems a little bit too much, too much of a blow off, too much information all at once, just too much everything. but he also knows that this goes one of two ways. they decide to... be married, or minjun panics and they have it annulled pretty much immediately. "how about you? remember anything?"

"wait, what?" minjun has barely taken in the features of the beautiful man in front of him, before he's hit by overwhelming pieces of new information, none of which he can comprehend well enough to make sense of his reality. "i did… what?" his head spins and he glances down at his finger, eyes widening fully at the sight of a ring. "… how?" he might be one of the biggest idiots that he knows of — thanks to his best friend he's far from alone — but this is pushing it. "do you remember… anything?"

[virtueofsanityx]

"yeah... just a date." and it's absolutely pissing august off just thinking about it. there's something so infuriating about the way that fucking jerk of a so called friend had swooped in like a really shitty bird to try and hook up with eva the moment he had met her. and yeah, he's against it. he hates it. he doesn't want her to go, but what reason does he have to offer besides 'i just don't think it's a good idea'. that one definitely won't fly. "yeah, we're friends, so i've definitely seen how he takes a girl out, bangs her, and tosses her and i don't want that to happen to you because, like, i care and shit or whatever."

“no, i’m serious — what’s going on?” eva questions with a raised eyebrow. even though it’s not unusual for them to be protective around her given how long they’ve known each other, this seems a little excessive. “it’s just a date, it’s not that big of a deal.” she explains, even though she’s not even sure why she has to. “besides, i thought you guys are friends… or is there some giant red flag you think i should know about?” / @virtueofsanityx

[virtueofsanityx]

"don't--" it's a sudden rush of embarrassment, that kind of all consuming embarrassment at the idea that her private moments, those moments where she had been disappointed and forced to take care of herself all because her ex had been an absolute loser in bed had been a lot more shared than she can even rationalize. "he was bad in bed, i get that, he was never the best at... making sure i was taken care of." hell, willow can count on one hand the number of times he actually did make her cum. eyes finally look up to meet him again, and she wants to ask. ask how much he had actually heard, how much of her throws of passion came through the walls. had he been around the one time fantasy had gotten the better of her rational judgement and she'd thought about him and moaned out his name? she can't, though, because if he hadn't heard it then, telling him now is just confirming feelings she isn't sure she's ready to unpack. "robin. yeah. she seems to think you two are dating. so if you aren't, might want to clear that up before you offer to crawl in my bed and get me off for real." and she doesn't mean to say that, but now, the idea is in her head, and it's chasing after her, and maybe it's because the emotions are running so high that she says it.

"did it sound like a joke to you?" she's unimpressed, but he's not letting it go that quickly. they're friends and he's never crossed the line, up until now. "how often did he make you cum, will?" she could argue that it's none of his business, that it's not appropriate, or she could listen to what he has to say. "you think i couldn't hear you on the nights you had to get yourself off after he left?" he'd heard it all, the moans, the quiet yet not entirely silent hum of her vibrator, the way she'd been louder by herself than she had when jason was in bed with her. "fuck it, forget i said anything." maybe now wasn't the time. the endorphins combined with the elevated testosterone after his workout often made him react stronger to his emotions. he's about to head out of the room when she brings up the girl he'd been seeing "robin." he confirms, the slight shrug of his shoulders suggesting that it's not that serious. "we aren't dating." maybe seth had a different definition of what they were doing, either way, they weren't exclusive. in his eyes, willow was a hell of a lot more attractive, too. "if you and i had been fucking, she wouldn't need to know."

[virtueofsanityx]

there's a moment of hesitation in her, watching him carefully, listening to his snide remark and feeling the heat bloom in her face at the notion of being caught staring, but the room is warm and she thinks it's fair that she can get away with red cheeks. her roaming eyes are the thing she's not sure how to explain, but a moment of thought allows her to come up with a perfect excuse. "i'm trying to make sure you aren't bleeding all over my tub, it's quite a pain to get blood stains out of porcelain." she knows that the excuse is flimsy, with the way her chest rises and falls as she takes in deep breaths to keep herself calm, but it's an excuse, none the less.

and she watches him, watches as he drapes himself over the side of the tub, as he sets her cup down with a softness that feels strange in the heat of the room. she wants to say something more, as goosebumps lift all along her arms at his admission, as her body seems to react further to the way the man simply looks at her, but she can't make anything come out, simply keeps her eyes locked firmly on his face as she reminds herself once again that there are things she's not meant to be looking at, no matter how naked the man is in her home to begin with.

an eyebrow lifts, and though she's weary, ellie pushes away from the sink. the silk of her slip has fully clung to her skin now, damp from the moisture in the room and surely giving him quite the show as she takes a few cautious steps to stand beside him. she assumes he's asking for help getting out of the water, and though part of her wants to refuse, wants to tell him it's probably best that she leave the room to respect some of his modesty, it feels like they've left that point far behind them, so she offers out her hand to him. "i'm not sure how strong i am, if i can actually pull you out of here, but i can certainly try my best." has her voice always been so airy?

The soothing tea enveloped him in a gentle embrace, igniting a comforting glow within his heart. It worked wonders, more so because of the person it came from. He savored each sip, showing her he could be good. The sweetness she poured was just right, and now and then, a luscious drop would land on his tongue, eliciting a low grunt of pleasure.

He'd caught every time her curious little eyes traveled, because his had never left her. "Is there something you're looking for?" he inquired softly, with a playful edge that danced on the brink of derision. How long would they continue this charade, as it was starting to awaken something deep within him. It was unexpected, this revelation, as her actions began to unravel into clarity. He had never seen Ellie so agitated, but the day of his marriage, to someone he couldn't yet name, loomed just ahead.. He reflected on her exchange with Felicity, slowly grasping the delicate craft of trivial gossip. Maybe at the time, he was willfully ignorant and didn't want to hear it. 

Frank was more than happy she had decided to stay, her silky slip was leaving less and less to the imagination. Dark, lingering eyes watched as the cloth adjoined the softness of her full chest. He could gasp, his lips parted at its suppleness.  He found himself captivated, his breath hitching at the allure of her softness. He placed the tea down on the tile beneath him with a deliberate gentleness, the act contrasting sharply with the severity of his earlier words. He had no desire to shatter her Tupperware; what if it was one of her cherished pieces? She would never forgive him then. "To be completely truthful," he groaned, siting himself up fully. Water dripped down his bare chest slowly. He draped over the side like a wrung towel. "If I hadn't come here, I would've continued drinking. But, there wasn't anywhere else I wanted to go."

"My face?" he chuckled, "Terrible." A wry, wistful smile appeared on his face. "I realize I've burdened you with my demands," an arm reached out for her," but, could you help me one last time?"

[virtueofsanityx]

binna's problem is that it never gets to her. words, they don't stick. she's too loud? oh well. she's too crass? too bad. she's got a bad attitude and talks too much and isn't funny and has a weird nose and a small forehead and wrinkles and she simply doesn't care. all of those things are just part of her. and she likes them. she knows that she's lucky in that aspect, that not everyone has that level of self actualization, or whatever the fuck her real problem is. confidence, or maybe some overdeveloped superego thing. she flunked psyche 101, she has no idea.

"i guess." she offers, finally, lifting a glass of champagne to her lips and taking a sip. "it's not fun to gossip with someone who's all rational and smart and empathetic, you know. but you're right. i concede. no more catty appearance comments."

“had mine last couple of years.” give or take. “could be anything.” he can’t even keep up anymore. fillers dissolved from a long, long time ago. “if your doctor’s good, they’d turn you down.” notice how he said good and not successful. most people get them confused. he’s had some subtle work done but a mountain of temporary or mundane things done when he shouldn’t before as a little girl. transitioning was one thing, but his love and insatiable need of cosmetic surgery was another.

for some people it’s never enough, and for him it was like he had finally seen what other people saw. felt, whatever. “it’s an insecurity thing. when you hear people say you’re not good enough, or you’re too much.” he sighs. a coat of empathy overflows within him. “it sticks with you.” if anything, he just feels bad. “i feel like us pointing it out is the least of her problems.”

[virtueofsanityx]

her giggle is something that bubbles out of her with a hiccup, something that's filled with pure joy, amusement, light. she can't stop it and she doesn't bother trying to as she shakes her head, as much as she can with her arm under her head and her neck twisted at a funny angle to look at him. "you hate it, i love it. being right is the ultimate ego boost, even bigger than when i wear something hot and go out in public." there's a twinkle in her eyes, glassy as they are, playful, fun, she's having fun. this is fun.

she snorts now and it's not a graceful sound, but it's maybe cute. "we're outside, what radio?" but she pulls out her phone, anyway, and after a few extremely clumsy clicks, she has spotify open and playing music at a low volume. enough to be heard, not enough to piss off neighbors. this is technically her parents house, she's housesitting for them while they take their grand retirement trip around the world. but it's nice. quiet neighborhood, comfortable. "do you wanna go inside?" the question is an afterthought, and she honestly isn't sure if either of them are in the position to get up as it is.

"good. it's good. i'm making a sweater. it was supposed to be for my ex, but now i guess it'll just be for me. unless you want a handmade sweater?"

schmidt can’t recall the last time he had a friend. bartending makes for only three things: memories, regret, and … something else he forgot about. is the room spinning or is he just outside? for someone that works in a bar, you’d think he’d have better control over his liquor intake. but you’d be wrong.

he pouts, he juts his lip out and frowns. “damn, i hate when you’re right.” if he starts to feel like snoring that’s when he knows he has had enough. a drink to forget rather than to remember. feelings get the better of him in spite of popular opinion. “hey—“

his vision blurs. moving his head too fast to give his brain time to think. to relocate, where daisy is. she’s right next to him. “if you think i can and i should,” drunk speech. “should i turn on the — the radio?” pursing his lips, “and lay on the floor.” would, “they be mad.” they in question refers to her parents. or is it her room-mate? last time he checked, he thought daisy lived alone.

“how’s uh,” he sniffs. “how’s the crochet project going?”