☠ 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]

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."

[molotov]

Why would one even hang onto a lobster for a year? At what point did that seem like a good idea? Spike.

With a snort, Molotov pokes his arm. "Because that was a stupid idea, and what did you even do to 'work' on it? As far as I remember, that never got past the planning stage."

[gottaknockhard]

He learned his lesson after the second time. Mostly. He hasn't really gone through the fridge in his room since before December, but he's been purposely avoiding lobster when he can remember to.

Now he frowns, because that was a good idea and Brock agreed. If they finished it, maybe those bald skeleton guys wouldn't have made it inside.

"I started digging. There's still a pretty good hole there as far as I know." Not a long one, but it was moderately deep before he got bored and quit. "We were going to use it to rig a trap instead."

[molotov]

No, it was a stupid idea, not in the least because Brock didn't really understand drawbridges. Also, The Gentlemen floated! They could have gotten across a shallow moat pretty easily.

"Oh, I wondered what that was. I thought maybe the dog had been digging around." She opens her eye and glances up at him. "Are you pouting over the moat? Don't pout about that thing."

[gottaknockhard]

Well now they'll never know for sure. Besides, they were going to put laser ducks in it or something. They had plans.

"I don't care that much about it." He doesn't pout either. 'The dog' digging a hole that perfect. Yeah, right. "Just seemed like a good idea to put in some security."

[molotov]

Laser ducks. Molotov married an idiot with idiot friends. Laser ducks. Ducks don't even have fingers, how would they fire lasers?!

"You seem awfully pouty to not care," Molotov sing-songs, taking a drink from her mug. "Security is why guns exist."

[gottaknockhard]

They obviously would have some kind of mechanism. It was still in the brainstorm phase.

And tell that to Brock. He's weirdly against guns. Besides -- "Not enough of them exist. It'd be easier not to waste bullets on raccoons."

Still not pouting. Frowning in disapproval isn't the same thing.

[molotov]

Things Spike Spiegel is definitely capable of: engineering and building a laser gun with a mechanism for duck wings to pull the trigger. I am not being sarcastic. The man who kicks things until they work was absolutely going to be able to do that.

It's totally pouting, and it makes Molotov snicker, because it's funny. "You think the raccoon would have drowned?"

[gottaknockhard]

His job was to come up with the ideas, not make them work. Besides, the whole cabin thing was his suggestion and he didn't really help with the construction of that.

"If we were lucky." She may be making fun of him, but that doesn't change his real life vendetta against a raccoon. Pain in the ass animal. -- Actually this is a good distraction from their earlier conversation. Let him get worked up instead.

[molotov]

Which is really exactly why Molotov didn't think he'd even started the moat! What precedent had he ever set on helping with anything?

"The raccoon is not that bad! With his little face and hands, I think he is kind of cute. Maybe you are just jealous of his good looks, huh?" She's teasing him, super entertained by all this. "Maybe he needs a name. Spike Jr."

[gottaknockhard]

He's helping now. Donating his arm out of the goodness of his heart; which he's starting to regret more as she goes on. And they were getting along so well.

"Very funny." Still holding back, since he's being a nice guy here. For some reason. "How long to raccoons live, anyway? I thought we'd be rid of it one way or another by now."

[molotov]

This is how normal people interact, Spike, with friendly ribbing and laughter. It's okay, you're talking about a raccoon.

"I cannot say I know the average lifespan, but knowing Paradisa? I feel comfortable saying that Spike Jr. is going to have a very long and comfortable life out there."

[gottaknockhard]

He should feel happy they've already skipped ahead to friendly ribbing when they were stuck on death threats not too long ago. But really, the raccoon is just a touchy subject. He shouldn't have brought it up.

"At least the family name will live on."

[molotov]

It's really amazing what a huge quantity of alcohol can do to change a person's perspective. Although... deep down, Spike must really like Molotov, because he can't blame it on wine.

"There are worse things," she tells him, rolling her eye a bit. "It could have been a gopher or something."

[gottaknockhard]

Hey, he can blame it on wine all he wants; he's kept that loss pretty quiet for his part. Besides, he's always been the reasonable one.

"They're all about the same if you ask me."

[molotov]

No, Molotov argues that he has not, in fact, been the reasonable one. He was the one who blew up the whole Vicious thing, he was the one who flipped out over Molotov kissing Julia (which was not something Molotov wanted anyway!!), and he was the one who'd generally been an insufferable ass for several years.

Aw, Spike, you're like a fourth grader. Pullin' Molotov's pigtails because you like her so much.

"Raccoons won't dig holes up through the floor," she reasons, then pats his shoulder. "Either way, I have not seen it around lately. Maybe Bulganin scared it off."

[gottaknockhard]

That's the problem with Paradisa. He has so few issues, and yet the castle has to zero in on them and make him look like the one with the problem.

"Could be." Whoever Bugan-whatever is. Animals are obnoxious no matter what they're called. "Or it only comes around when I'm there."

[molotov]

Couldn't be that he was the one with the problem, could it? After all, most people weren't so touchy about these things with people who were not only uninvolved, but would also be dead for years when it all went down.

Also, Spike better never let Molotov hear him talk about animals that way -- the Cocktease-Samsons owned like, half the animals in Paradisa. "Sure you aren't carrying raccoon feed in your pockets?"

[gottaknockhard]

He doesn't bring these issues up for the very reason of avoiding that kind of logic.

If he hasn't already made it clear by how many times he's tried to get rid of Ein... but most of that is for show, if anyone really looked into it. Ein doesn't seem to take offense, already used to his macho 'I hate everything' routine. (Which is a normal thing to do.)

"I'm sure." The raccoon-hate, at least, is legitimate.

[molotov]

Well, no one could ever get rid of Ein, no matter how much they hated animals! Ein is a Welsh Corgi, that cute motherfucker ain't goin' nowhere. Even napping, he's too cute!!!

Molotov snorts and shifts her head slightly against him. Spike is about to start finding little stuffed raccoons all over the place. She might drug him and paint his face while he sleeps, so that he looks like his little raccoon friend. "You're ridiculous. No wonder Brock likes you so much."

[gottaknockhard]

Not even Spike can resist how cute he is. That's exactly the reason he's stayed.

And later it will occur to him to never bring up anything that bothers him if he doesn't plan on it coming back to bite him in the ass. And this was one of his more trivial issues.

When she shifts, his distraction stops being enough of one though. This is still a weird position to be in with her. "...Well, there aren't too many normal people to choose from around here."

[molotov]

Oh, Spike, these kinds of things are how Molotov shows she likes you. Just ask Brock! The thing with Julia, though, no, that was because she hated you at the time.

She might hate you again later, when she's not super drunk. This remains to be seen.

"There are worse than you, though," Molotov shrugs, and yawns. "Like that bitch from a floor down, Mess or whatever her stupid name is." Tess, Molotov. It's Tess.

[gottaknockhard]

Sometimes it's almost a good thing that Julia isn't around now. (Not at all, really, but he can pretend.)

"Unfortunate name." He knows it's Tess. He actually liked Tess from his limited exposure to her, but he's sort of used to that being the case. Nobody he knows likes each other.

More importantly, is she falling asleep? He'd better keep talking. "What'd she do?"

[molotov]

Well, of course he liked Tess, it would only make sense. In the same way that it would make sense for Tess and Molotov to totally hate each other. Everything makes sense!

"She's a bitch!" Molotov said emphatically. "Thinking she knows better than those of us who have been around for years. Thinking that a migraine could drop me the way that thing from the castle did. I should have killed her that day."