☠ 062

[molotov]

Who: Molotov and you, maybe
What: Fireside sitting in the lobby, thinking, talking, drinking
When: The middle of the damn night!
Where: Lobby
Rating: Ehhh probably like PG-13 at most

The lobby never really got silent, not with the noctural residents and everyone who seemed to come and go at all hours, but it did get quiet if you waited up late enough, and Molotov needed a little bit of quiet.

Sure, she could have stayed up in her room, could have sat in bed next to Brock as he slept, even though she couldn't sleep herself. But something about it made her want to leave, want to just be in front of the beautiful, if slightly "majestic generic", fireplace down in the lobby.

So she'd put on some pajamas and wandered downstairs, taking a seat on the sofa closest the fire. The castle provided a blanket to cover her legs with, and a mug of red wine hot chocolate that never seemed to need refilling, and Molotov couldn't help but think it was the nicest thing the castle had done in a while.

And there she sat, alone and silent, gazing into the flames as the lobby traffic died out more and more.

Until you came along.

Comments

[molotov]

He'll have to look for his giant puffy coat at some point! And that's when she'll spring up from his disgusting, probably sticky floor and attack.

"Because you are stupid," she tells him somewhat affectionately, laughing.

[gottaknockhard]

He'd never see it coming. But even when he does, it ends up going exactly the same way.

Spike recognizes that she's being nice to him though, and it's a strange sort of phenomenon. "I never thought you'd warm up to me."

[molotov]

Molotov shrugs, and looks at him, her eye a little bleary from the alcohol. "We used to like each other," she says. "Why is it so crazy that we could do it again? Start over or whatever?"

[gottaknockhard]

It's more crazy that she's the one who would think of that. As long as he's been known to hold a grudge, it would make his life a little easier if he had one less person who wants him dead.

"Are you sure that's not the alcohol talking?"

[molotov]

"I have made worse decisions with less alcohol in me." She snorts, then smiles. "So even if it is, it can be lived with."

[hellofist]

Sounds... elaborate.

"Must have missed you, at party. Would have... remembered seeing that."

[molotov]

"Probably you saw Brock instead. He was the white swan, but..." She snickers, taking another drink before composing herself. "His costume was a bit more... elaborate than mine."

Read: he looked like a Brazilian gigolo at Carnival.

[gottaknockhard]

All this time, all he had to do was get her drunk. It seems like she's already forgiven him for attempting to leave earlier too. When is he ever let off this easy?

"I guess it's gone on long enough." For her to learn something, he means. He's never an asshole for no good reason.

[molotov]

He was an asshole for no reason at all! And he tried to talk Brock out of marrying her and spending time with her! And there was that thing with the crush on Brock too, once? Spike was really lucky that Molotov even considered forgiving him.

She sticks her hand out toward him. Gotta shake on it!

[bezazzled]

It all goes over Mabel's head, but wow do those sound like really cool names that are a challenge to pronounce correctly!

"Neat! I used to think my name was really plain, but now that I'm older I realize that I like it a lot. I think it suits me. Plus, how many other Mabels are you going to meet in the world, am I right?"

[gottaknockhard]

Wow all of that is taken so out of context! And he had a crush on a lot of people that week, it wasn't his fault.

Also this doesn't seem like the kind of thing you need to shake on, is it? It feels weird actually doing it, but he'll give her a pass for being drunk. Lucky bitch.

"Deal, then."

[molotov]

Why not shake on it? It's a verbal contract, they were were going to start over! Don't be a dick, Spike, or she might just conveniently "forget" all this and kick you in the balls later this week.

She shakes his hand, smiling, then lights a new cigarette.

[molotov]

"Not many, at least not your age," Molotov agrees, taking another sip of her cocoa. "Are you named for someone, Mabel? Or did your parents just like the name?"

[bezazzled]

As she tries to remember, there's a large gaping void in her memory. If her parents liked the name, she wouldn't know. In fact, she can't even recall ever having parents, or any other family other than Dipper or her great uncle. It causes a tightness in her chest to realize this yet again.

"You know, I'm not really sure! They probably just picked any old name out of a baby name book or something. It's not so important."

[gottaknockhard]

He's shaking it, calm down. He may not know why this is happening, but it does get kind of tiring dealing with his fan club all the time. He never saw himself as that hard to get along with.

But whatever, it's not important right now. He takes her cue to replace his own cigarette and enjoy it in place of the sandwich he'd originally come down for. It's almost the same.

[hellofist]

No, look at this sad sad face. She missed that? Her heart is breaking.

"Were there feathers?" She looks like she wants to reach out and grab Molotov's hand, but she doesn't. She's just that excited to hear about how Brock's pride must have taken a hit in an outfit like that. She looks a little let down now, lips twisting into an amused grin. "Was he pretty?"

[molotov]

Molotov smiles, and nods. "Well, either way, it is a pretty name. I do not know why my father chose 'Molotov' over any other name, either. Maybe my mother liked it or something. He never said."

[molotov]

Cigarettes: better than sandwiches for sure.

Molotov settles into this silence, apparently content to not say anything more. She's probably going to doze off again on his shoulder in a little bit, but that's a bridge to be crossed when he comes to it.

[molotov]

"A whole hat and bolero jacket of them," Molotov laughs, remembering how absolutely stupid he looked. "And white leather pants, too! Like some kind of gay albino peacock..."

There's a pause and an evil smirk. "He was beautiful. I will get you a picture."

[bezazzled]

"Yeah, parents. Go figure!" She's doing her best to keep up the facade and is pretty sure it's working. "But thanks! Molotov is a really pretty name, too. It kind of sounds like a flower. Obviously, it would be a fiery red flower if it really was one."

[molotov]

Aw, Mabel, it's okay! Molotov can be your mom! She's pretty sure that the castle stopped giving her a choice in the matter, honestly.

"It means 'hammer'," Molotov says, still smiling. "Something strong and hard to break, made to build and demolish with the same ease. I think that was probably meaningful to my papa."

[hellofist]

"Good." She doesn't really know what she'll do with that picture, but she wants to see. "Ballet is, uh... dancing, right? Did he dance?"

Please say he danced.

[molotov]

"He might have been compelled to dance with a few people." Molotov can't hold back her snorting, so she just covers her mouth with one hand, lest Cass figure out how much she really enjoys her own husband's humiliation.

[hellofist]

It's funny to think that Molotov went from sitting unhappily by the fireplace to snorting, but Cass is glad. She just smiles as she watches the other woman, pleased to see her mood improved.

"Bet he loved that, after. Had to deal with... all the teasing."

Next chance she gets, she's asking Brock about how he feels about feathers.

[molotov]

Molotov shrugs, mouth still twisted.

"I think most people did not know what he was supposed to be, so maybe he just got lucky. But I kept his dumb little jacket, just to make fun of him with."

However, Brock actually loves costumes, so she has doubts as to his shame over the situation.