☠ 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]

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."

[gottaknockhard]

That woke her up. Well played, Spiegel.

"But you were worried what people might say?" Maybe that's not the question he should be asking, he's just latching onto the opportunity to focus on something other than raccoons.

[molotov]

Molotov snorts, shakes her head. "I do not give a damn what people might say about me," she says, which is true as long as they aren't saying she's soft or weak or some shit like that. "Brock would not want me to kill her. That is all."

[gottaknockhard]

"Does he play that card a lot?" Is that why you haven't tried to kill me again? -- is the actual question here. Curiosity.

[molotov]

"He never plays it." An air of finality sinks in with her words. "I just know what he would want. Him being happy is worth more than my dislike of various idiots, I guess."

[gottaknockhard]

He'd be thrilled to see this, then. Spike swirls the mug in his hand around, contemplating how many times he's retrained himself out of what he felt he owed Brock. It's ironic. They're not even married.

"That's a lot to overlook." Thinking about her father again, so he's probably going to remember it after tonight. He never had this problem when he could still enjoy a drink.

[molotov]

"There are worse things. Besides, he does not really care what I do as long as I don't kill anyone, so," she trails off, waving her hand vaguely. That's probably super reassuring, right?

Raccoons.

[gottaknockhard]

There's a fine line between friendly banter and thinly veiled threats. Even if he's drunk, he can't be too sure which category that falls into. -- As if he's worried. Just because he broke their mutual understanding that they would avoid each other at all times.

"It's not like there's much point in that here."

[molotov]

It's actually just matter of fact -- no threats. She is totally going through with the raccoon thing, though. One day, Spike, you'll be digging in your mess of a room for something, and you'll just keep finding Beanie Baby raccoons everywhere.

"Well, that too. Why bother wasting my time, right?"

*even if /she's/ drunk, gosh typos

[gottaknockhard]

Maybe if he stays on Ein's good side, he'll chew them up for him. There has to be some advantage to having a dog in your room. Ein may have trouble taking down the real thing, but toys... are harmless and don't bother Spike at all, naturally.

"I can't see why anyone would."

molotov comes back to life as a dude, thanks to you

[molotov]

Molotov will put Ein in a doggy raccoon costume, don't think for a second that she won't. She's really good with animals, Ein will actually probably love her. He might even help her hide some of the stuffed raccoons in creative places.

"Right, it is stupid. So I do not bother, and it makes Samson happy, and that is the important part."

whoopsie, sorry Brock

[gottaknockhard]

Have some dignity, Ein, come on. He would never betray someone who forgets to feed him most of the time, would he?

"It never hurts to be easy to please."

[molotov]

I'm just saying, Molotov will notice the empty bowls and fill them. She and Brock have quite the menagerie, they're great at taking care of animals! So there's a good chance that Ein might be partial to the pretty lady with the food.

Molotov laughs a little. "It is difficult to be hard to please in a place like this, I think."

[gottaknockhard]

If she feeds him, she has to adopt him. Those are the rules.

"You'd think, yeah." Spike watches at her, idly trying to think of what her loss is. The eye thing came before, so what?

[molotov]

Brock and his dog probably wouldn't appreciate it, and god knows they don't need another pet, but Molotov would probably take the dog in an instant. Animals and badass kids, her weaknesses.

By this time, Molotov's eye is closed again, and she has no idea that he's looking at her. She is also never telling him her loss, so.

[gottaknockhard]

Is she really falling asleep? Lulling her into conversation that isn't hostile was a poor decision in hindsight, especially considering how awake he is. What are the odds he can roll away without her noticing?

Well, whatever they are, that's what he's trying now. See if he can't just yank his arm out like a tablecloth. Easy.

[molotov]

Spike Spiegel is probably the first man in history to ever be like "this super hot woman is being nice and sociable and dozing off on my shoulder -- I better run". Literally the first man. That includes gay men. Look at how hot Molotov is, she's basically top of the hotness food chain.

She is also not asleep. So when he tries to pull his arm away, she releases him, opening her eye to look at him in a mildly wounded way. Because she's drunk. "You don't have to sneak away, you know," she says, brows knit. "You can just go, if you are so desperate."

[gottaknockhard]

He's also a guy who barely batted an eye at Faye Valentine when she was lounging in his living space in stripperwear for the better part of a year. It takes a special kind of person.

"--I wasn't sneaking. I just needed to stretch." Once he's free, he demonstrates this by placing his mug on the table. Very believable. "And a smoke. Unless you don't mind."

[molotov]

Maybe Spike has accidentally been eating saltpeter. Just saying, he doesn't exactly pay close attention to what he's shoving in his gob, so there is a distinct possibility that's been happening.

Molotov very obviously does not believe this, but just sits back with a shrug, lighting up a cigarette of her own. "Whatever you want." Her tone is blasé, but he has clearly offended her.

Why even bother being nice?