paradisalogs | ☠ 062

Entry tags:

molotov cocktease

☠ 062

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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 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."

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."

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."

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?

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.

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.

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."

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."

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?

Wouldn't that be depressing? Either that, or she needs the blonde wig after all. Blonde and dead, that's his thing.

Anyway, he feels awkward about it now, so he pulls out his cigarette and lights it. He could easily walk off, but instead he brings up a subject out of nowhere. Weight on his shoulders maybe. Losses on his mind.

"I can't get drunk."

You can be a creep and test it out in a couple of days, Spike. Just hide it in a duffel bag or something.

The change in top is so out of nowhere that Molotov just squints at him, her head cocked with confusion. "What? What do you mean?"

Wow, that would go over super well for everyone involved too. It'd be his luck that they put a camera in their room.

"Like I said," he mumbles, helpfully. That's what he does, spouts something honest when nobody expects it. "The stupid things you have to deal with."

Nah, not in the cabin. Molotov doesn't like sleeping out there, it's drafty and too primitive for her tastes. So let your freak flag fly, Spiegel! No, don't, actually, because it's wrong on like a lot of levels.

She puts the pieces together after a second, because it wasn't that cryptic, just unexpected. "Oh," she says, unhelpfully. "I knew someone else with that loss too. I'm sorry. Did you really drink that much before you got here?"

Luckily he's not that deprived. They dodged a bullet.

"Not as much as I did after." Although that had more to do with being poor than anything else. Every now and then he opted for food. Or rather, Jet would spend the money on food before he got to it.

Anyway, he shrugs, since he's sure he smoothed that over with his random admission. "I'm glad I'm not the only one."

Molotov has to think about that for a second, then realizes what it means.

"That is... your second loss," she says slowly, staring into her mug. "I forgot you died. Brock's second is his eyesight, but his first loss was changed, we do not know what it is."

She falls silent for a moment, then looks at him. "What was your first loss?"

He opens his mouth without saying anything, mostly out of genuine surprise that she heard about his death. Which he shouldn't be, after he told Brock. It'd be pointless to deny it.

"Something more personal," he finally says. As few of people who know about the alcohol thing, even less know about the other. Although it may have helped explain to her why Julia was always so tense.

Well, that, and she was also on Event Horizon -- she'd heard of most of the victims during the round-ups, while people were still trying to figure it all out. And she'd almost died too, so she'd been asked questions.

With a humorless laugh, Molotov rests her head on one hand, elbow on the back of the sofa. "Mine too," she answers. "I only ever told... hmm, three people? Besides Brock. And two of them left years and years ago."

It's not like he expected it not to get out eventually, but it does make him second guess how well Lucrezia and Joshua covered it up. It's not like he has any concrete knowledge of what went on while he was dead. Investigating it seemed a little too morbid, even for him.

"I'm not asking, don't worry." She's already shared more than he sat down for. Could be another reason he offered anything at all. Besides, he's used to living with his curiosity.

Well, he was also a dead body on a space ship. What were Lucrezia and Joshua to do, bury him? That isn't how shit goes down in space, Spike, and you should know that!

"I will say I am lucky," she laughs. "The castle gave me a loss that stopped mattering. Maybe I am the only one."

Something to keep in mind the next time dying seems like a good idea.

"You don't hear many people bragging about that." Because a paranoid person might think that made them a target. Which of course he won't mention, or he'd look like the paranoid one.

Molotov figures she's a target no matter what. She has a happy marriage, she has a meaningless loss, she doesn't spend all of her time miserable. What better life for the castle to ruin?

"Is it much different from the people who do not even know their loss?"

Wow, could she stop making him jealous with everything she says. He has to remind himself that he at least got a replacement when he lost his eye. At least he beats her on that front.

"There are people like that?"

To be fair, the eyepatch is a personal choice of Molotov's. It's a good place to hide tranq darts! She has a collection of glass eyes, she just doesn't like wearing them. Also, she is not from the super fancy advanced future, so shut up.

"Mostly people who lost a memory and do not have anyone to remind of them what it is," she shrugs, maybe finding it a little surprising that Spike has never heard anyone say that they don't know what their loss is.

It's not that he's never heard of it, but how long does that really last? -- And why did he get the shit end of the stick twice?

"...Talk about something that would drive you crazy.

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

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

whoopsie, sorry Brock

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