☠ 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]

Molotov refrains from saying that she likes family losses, that maybe they'll get to do something where they really are a family again. Or maybe a loss where some of the lost friends come back. Molotov feels nostalgic.

"House was once made king of the clinic," she recalls, laughing. "He let me annex an isolation room for myself."

[wagers]

"But that's just one room! Not a whole lot going for you there." She'd shrug, folding her arms over her chest. "Small victories, but still not impressive!"

[molotov]

"Well, the clinic is not so big, and we could not leave," Molotov reasons, reaching out to teasingly tug at a lock of Vriska's hair. "And I liked King House, he was my friend. I had no desire to overthrow him. Besides, he installed a slushie machine, and that made him a great ruler indeed."

[wagers]

It's so thick and long and needs a good brushing, Molotov! To this effect, Vriska's wincing, pouting the poutiest of pouts at your expense. "Losses are so dumb!" Watch her assume! "But not going to lie, I am all about having slushies whenever the hell you want..."

[molotov]

Yes, Molotov really wants to do that, but she doesn't know how Vriska would react to suddenly being brushed. And maybe braided. Molotov can french braid it or do a waterfall braid or something badass, come on! She frowns slightly, gently combing her fingers through the hair in her hand, gingerly working at a knot so as not to hurt Vriska.

"Have you ever had frozen hot chocolate?"

[wagers]

Not going to lie, she would look pretty awesome. But sadly, the troll thinks so such thing. Trolls are so fashion-unconscious! Vriska rolls her eyes for what seems like the eighth time in this entire conversation and you can just hear the groaning in her voice. "Why don't you just call it frozen chocolate?"

[molotov]

One day, Molotov will tie Vriska up in her sleep and just brush and style the hell out of her hair. She will look so awesome, look at how hot Molotov is on the daily. Makeup, the whole nine yards.

With a snort, Molotov tugs a bit harder on a second knot, but untangles it anyway. "Because you have to make it hot first, to melt the chocolate. Don't bitch about semantics."