☠ 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

[gottaknockhard]

"If only I'd known he felt the same way." His tone is so flat, but he's attempting to cover up the stupid way he tenses up whenever someone makes him think of Julia.

"Besides, I don't like to take bets on who's going first."

[molotov]

"Who said anything about a bet?" Molotov sighs, then moves down the sofa to abruptly use Spike as a pillow, leaning her head against his shoulder. Oh, hi, Mr. Spiegel. Did you not know that contented drunk Molotov is actually super affectionate and touchy? Well now you do.

She just seems tired more than anything else though, and closes her eye again. "Do you even want to go home? I do not think I do."

[gottaknockhard]

This is an unexpected development in their relationship. Being nice to him is one thing; showing vulnerability and snuggling up next to him on the couch sets off alarms. -- But there's no mistletoe drying up around them, even as he double checks to make sure. She's really just drunk.

"It's probably worse than getting a divorce, huh?" Subtly reminding her of that might be the best way to go, although he doesn't move away. Or answer her question. He does that.

[molotov]

Haha, yeah, no, that's not going to work. Molotov spends a considerable amount of time snuggled up to men who aren't her husband, actually -- Brock's sort of adopted a "don't touch and it's fine" approach to it. Just ask Ezio! But yeah, she is really just drunk.

"We cannot get divorced here anyway," she says, waving one hand vaguely. "Everyone was so sure to keep driving that point home, like we would want to get divorced. If we have not killed each other after twenty years of actively trying, why would we want a divorce? It would be like lighting up a sparkler after buying a hundred pounds of C-4."

She is also not moving, seemingly very content against Spike's stupid bony shoulder.

[gottaknockhard]

No problem. It would be a welcome change from his usual interactions with her if he can get over himself for a minute. As long as she doesn't fall asleep on him.

"You couldn't kill him, so you married him?" He's not one to ask, but sometimes curiosity wins him over when it seems better to keep her talking.

[molotov]

She might! No, she probably won't, if only because he's got no meat on his bones, but still. There's a possibility -- she's had a lot of this boozy cocoa.

"Well, he could not kill me either," she reasons. "And he killed my father, pulled out my eye... Even if I love him, he deserves to die. But I cannot do it. Every time I tried, either something lucky would happen to him and he would live, or... well, usually that was it."

[gottaknockhard]

If she'd given him more of a heads up, he would have worn shoulder pads. Or dragged her husband downstairs, one or the other.

"...I guess I can understand how you'd fall in love after that." Wow. It's no wonder Brock got to be such pals with him. Makes his story seem a lot more normal.

[molotov]

Brock will probably show up sooner or later, once he realizes that Molotov is missing. Like she's not a grown woman who's allowed to wander around the freaky castle they live in while her husband sleeps. Pfft.

"Oh no, we were already in love." She sighs happily, like this is a super romantic story and not at all filled with murder attempts. "Love at first sight, in Paris, although I think Brock remembers the timelines differently. Paris was before the Goodwill Games, he never remembers that."

[gottaknockhard]

It's sweet that she likes to tell it. Somehow he never got into the subject with Brock. That whole marriage thing was one of the few flaws he had against him, which Brock was well aware of, but there's always another side.

Suddenly it makes more sense that she would have found common ground with Vicious.

"Women usually have a better memory for those things." Look at him, being pleasant and not at all judgmental. Too bad he has nobody to brag about this to.

[molotov]

Another side, like how being in love with someone for half your life trumps your mancrush on a barely functioning adult-sized child with access to guns.

Okay, so maybe it's not that different. It's just lengths of time, really. Sorry you got there second, Spike.

She smiles, and nods a little. "Men cannot remember the details. But women do. Brock was still in training during Paris, he was with his handler. But the Goodwill Games, that was an assignment for him. I killed his partner."

[gottaknockhard]

Story of his life. She should hear how well that worked out with Julia.

"Was that before or after your father?" -- He's already gone there, might as well drop his pretense about not prying into their lives and hear the whole thing.

[molotov]

No meeting Brock in the rain at the graveyard, Spiegel!

"Same time." Molotov yawns a little and wraps her arms around his upper arm, cocoa precariously balanced in her lap. She obviously does not mind telling the story. "Papa was the greatest spy ever, the Siberian Husky, they called him. We were there to assassinate Gorbachev, traitorous bastard. I stopped Samson's partner from shooting my Papa -- I shot first. But Samson threw a javelin, pierced Papa's heart. I was too far away, I couldn't have stopped it."

[gottaknockhard]

How romantic. (The story, not the graveyard! Because he doesn't remember the graveyard.) He doesn't even doubt that this really happened, even if she is drunk. They give off that vibe as a couple.

"At least it gave you a good story to tell the kids." What can he say when she has complete control over one of his arms? He's not in the mood to deal with the clinic at this time of night.

Eventually, he realizes that might have been insensitive. Which is why he leaves out asking if her father would have approved. It's hard to stop once you get going on a streak. "Then the eye?"

[molotov]

Totally true! Which is ridiculous, really, but she didn't even tell him about the shit that went down in Paris. That is somehow even more ridiculous.

"Andropov is too young," Molotov says, maybe a little sadly. "I hope we get to see her when she is older, maybe one of these years they will come as teenagers or something."

She pauses, cocks her head a bit, then smiles again. "He keeps my eye in a jar. On his bedside table. He is such a sentimental fool."

[gottaknockhard]

Then again, there's such a thing as learning too much. And Brock seems like such a regular guy. But if he were, he wouldn't have lasted as long as he has. Or something.

"I can tell." At that he takes another drink, already knowing it's not going to benefit him. Maybe the castle will cut him a break.

[molotov]

Oh, come on, Spike. It's romantic! Holding onto that keepsake for all these years, Molotov could barely stand it when she'd found out. So precious!

"He does things like that," she continues, clearly just dreamily in love with her husband. "All the carvings in the cabin? He did them for me, to decorate. He thought I would like it more if it was cozy, instead of a sad little log box. And he set up a picnic behind it once, with lights in the trees and everything."

[gottaknockhard]

Is that what the heart eyepatch is all about? Brock... So much for not judging.

"...I thought you had something to do with those." In that, after she found out about it, Brock suddenly got a lot more into redecorating. Although he'd been giving him the benefit of the doubt that it was all her. "If I knew that was going on, I wouldn't have stayed over for so long."

[molotov]

Well, no, the heart eyepatch is more of Molotov's personal style. Hearts on everything! Heart cutouts on her band of mercenaries, hearts on her logo, hearts on the side of a goat. So no, not that.

"I do not really like staying at the cabin anyway, not overnight, so it is okay. He is such a little homemaker, it is cute. But it is drafty in the cabin." Brock is a bit into decorating for his own sake though, so don't go chalking it up to Molotov entirely, Spiegel.

[gottaknockhard]

He likes to keep to his assumptions, generally. So this whole conversation is basically his fault.

"Yeah. A real homemaker." Which is what she just said. Literally though. Anyway, Spike goes back to staring at the fire while he deals with all of these mildly disturbing discoveries. It's going to be awkward to look Brock in the eye the next time he sees him.

[molotov]

Just pretend you dreamed it, Spike! You don't need to know about Brock's mushy habits, you can act like your crazy brain made it all up.

Molotov sighs and laughs a little. "You never noticed before? You know he made the curtains himself. Would not wish for them."

[gottaknockhard]

That would be easier than trying to decide if making his own curtains is better or worse than the eye-jar thing. Then again, Jet had his bonsai trees and liked to cook... The eye-jar, definitely.

"He's never been big on wishing." Give him a few minutes, he'll start laughing along.

[molotov]

Hey, the eye jar is super romantic and special, and shut up, Spike. How about that? Yeah, at least he doesn't hang on to lobsters for so long that they go on killing sprees.

She keeps laughing. "I tried to get him to at least wish for the lumber for the cabin, and he insisted on having it all cut down! As if the magical trees in the magical world are any different."

[gottaknockhard]

He was saving the lobster for a special occasion. Unless Brock was planning on eating the eye later, there's no reasonable explanation for keeping something for any extended amount of time.

"I remember. I was supposed to help with that after we lost the lumberjack."

[molotov]

Hmm, no, crazy deadly lobster definitely trumps the eye. How bad is your life if you don't have any special occasions for that long??

"Logan," Molotov says, in a way that's maybe a little inappropriate for a married woman, but continues on teasingly. "Have you ever actually helped with anything, Spike?"

[gottaknockhard]

Point. But to be fair, after about a year he forgot it was back there.

"When I can fit it in." He's no 'Logan the Lumberjack', but he also spent most of his time in space before coming here. "I was working on the moat before you shot that down."