☠ 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]

Well, whatever, they were ugly either way! Ugly and super Holly Homemaker bullshit, and he was doing it even when he had "something to do".

When Brock sits back, Molotov scoots away, no longer willing to try and be the relationship advocate in this discussion. "We could have been together, I wanted to be together!" she snaps, then reels it back in. "Bullshit politics is your meaningless excuse, it always has been. First you loved your government more than me, then you loved the Ventures more than me, and then you loved Hunter even more than me, even when every single one of them let you down over and over. But I have always been there, offering you a way out, something unconditional."

She looks over at him, and there might be just a tiny shimmer of a tear in her eye, but it's a tear of frustration, not sadness. "You always rely on 'politics' to be your excuse. Do you even want to be married to me, Brock? Or am I just a last resort, because you can't have America or the Ventures or fucking Hunter Gathers?"

[samson]

Molotov's 'unconditionality,' of course, isn't as simple as she's making it sound. He couldn't turn his back on his beliefs and his morals just for one woman, even if he loved her more than anything. But none of that really matters here; beliefs and morals hold a lot less weight when you're living in a magical castle that feeds on your soul and fucks with you for fun.

He doesn't say anything about that, though. He's tired of having this argument.

"Look," he says again, turning to face her. He takes his cigarette out his mouth and ashes it onto... the floor, because why the fuck not. "It just works out here. It's not complicated here. Stop overthinking things; of course I want you. This place is a monster, but at least it gave us this chance."

He sighs, rubbing at his face, then peers at her from between his fingers. "So maybe I shouldn't complain so much."

[molotov]

She doesn't answer -- instead, she just gazes at the fireplace, her face set in a deep, angry frown. There's nothing left to say, she feels, and so she keeps quiet, sipping at her mug and pointedly ignoring her own husband's presence. Maybe she'll go stay with someone else tonight.

No point in trying to make peace with this, she figures. Brock will just keep dodging the subject, and she'll just keep having to pretend.

[samson]

Pretty much! Though as far as Brock's concerned, there's no way to make peace with this, which is his point. He doesn't want to argue about it because it'll go nowhere. They just need to accept that this place gave them a chance they're never going to get in the 'real world.' It's not perfect, but it's something.

He's staring at her now, though. How rude, just pretending like he's not even there...

"Now what."

[molotov]

"Leave me alone," she says, unconsciously curling away from him. She'd been having a perfectly nice time all alone, thinking and watching the fire, until Brock showed up, seemingly just to make her feel like shit. She'd tried to avoid this, tried to get him to just sit with her in front of the fire, but no, he had to keep opening his mouth.

[samson]

Brock rolls his eyes. What a drama queen! Why can't Molotov be more like a dude, just be perfectly content not talking about shit. (Insert joke here about marrying Shoreleave instead.)

"I can't," he says mildly, throwing his arm over the back of the couch again and leaning back. "You're stuck with me, baby."

[molotov]

Because she is not a dude! Good lord, come on. If Brock wanted to be married to a lady, particularly a crazy one like Molotov, he was going to have to deal with emotions and drama. It comes with the territory! He could always go marry a man, if that was his thing.

She snorts, and then harrumphs. "I can leave you if I want. Get another man, a better one."

[samson]

He liked ladies too much, it was a real problem! To be fair, though, he never had to deal with the emotions and drama before; there's a reason why he preferred to sleep around and stuff, you know.

"I don't think that's possible," he says, then tips his head toward her. "There's no divorce here, too."

[molotov]

But it wasn't like Brock had been pressed for time to get used to it! They were approaching their second wedding anniversary, and that didn't even include their unmarried relationship. So really, Brock only had himself to blame for not being used to this shit by now.

"I do not have to get a divorce," she tells him, smirking. "Bigamy is legal here. Maybe I will have a little harem of husbands, rotate through them. Assign them days of the week."

[samson]

Well, yes, but it's not like they had a ton of emotional conversations. Ones that didn't end with Brock throwing his hands in the air, leaving, and then apologizing later, anyway; that didn't lend itself to very much progress.

"Cool, you do that," he says mildly, breathing a stream of smoke through the corner of his mouth. "I'll just kill 'em all."

[molotov]

"Don't you dare kill my other husbands," she says, feigning offense, and places one hand to her chest. "They are as deserving of my love as you are. Maybe more, they will not be mean to me."

[samson]

Brock rolls his eyes. He hopes she knows he's being 100% serious; he will murder any man who touches her.

"Nope, you did it. They're all dead now. Good job."

[molotov]

Hey, Molotov is her own woman! She can choose other men if he wants, Brock does not own her. Grr.

She snorts. "They will just come back and team up against you. Even you can be overpowered, sokol, especially by the men that I would choose."

[samson]

In that case, then Brock can choose other women, too! And I guess Molotov wouldn't viciously murder them, huh? Yeah. Shut up.

Brock just stares at her for a long, silent moment, then puts his cigarette out on the couch and stands up to leave. Whatever, lady! It's not like that sort of thing doesn't hurt his feelings or anything.

[molotov]

Molotov just stares after him, so clearly confused by this turn of events that it's actually funny. Her face is comical right now. This is joking, why is he taking it so seriously! So ridiculous.

But she's not going to argue. If he wants to get all pissy, then he can do that. She'll go stay with someone else tonight! Jerk.

[samson]

Hey, he is sensitive, okay. He is a delicate flower.

Brock frowns deeper at the look on her face, then jams his arms folded across his chest. "What? You know I don't like it when you joke about that shit. Quit it."

[molotov]

Well, he needs to fucking quit it, it's ridiculous!

"Well, I do not like your face!" she snaps childishly, annoyed that he's being all pissy about this for no reason. "If I wanted other men, I could get them! So stop taking it so seriously when I say I am going to get myself a harem. Idiot."

[samson]

He doesn't like it! He still has a lot of hangups about Molotov, particularly because she hangs out with a ton of men all the time. (And he is pretty sure she flirts with them more than she does with him...) He often worries that she'll leave him or something, because then what is he gonna do? It's not like he could avoid her; it's a tiny castle.

"Stop acting like you do want other men," he says, frowning. It's not a very good joke, she should stop making them!

[molotov]

"I don't! I keep telling you that, I have been telling you that for years!" she exclaims, irritated. It's not fair that he takes his hangups out on her, when she's the one who spent all that time waiting for him. Maybe Brock should figure out some things on his own, instead of expecting Molotov to not have friends or ever make any kind of joke.

[samson]

"Then why the hell do you keep saying you do?" he says, also irritated. "It pisses me off every time. Why do you keep saying it?"

[molotov]

"I don't know, because you get comfortable too easy! If you do not have to think about it, you will treat me badly, and go find whores in town to fuck behind my back!" she explodes, then immediately pulls back, turning away. She hates this shit, hates when he pushes her until she reveals things.

"You need competition," she mumbles, quiet now. "You did not even want me until I started dating Guido. I never forgot that."

[samson]

Wow, what the fuck! Brock looks stricken, like this concept never even crossed his mind. He thought she was just doing it to be a bitch!

"That's -- no, that's not true," he says, reaching for her arm. "I just thought you'd wait forever for me, I guess. Like -- I know that was shitty, I get it, but you don't have to keep... trying to make me jealous to like... keep my interest. I'm still interested."

[molotov]

Molotov doesn't pull away, but she doesn't seem particularly into his touch either. This is more because of the whole "emotions" thing than because of Brock himself.

"Well, it does not always feel like that," she answers. "You used to... do things for me, want things to be special. And now it feels like you are bored or something."

[samson]

"We're not... this isn't new anymore, Molotov," he says, frowning. Since she hasn't pulled away, he sort of loosely wraps his arm around her shoulders and kind of tugs her back toward him. A gentle, loving headlock because Brock is a dumb moose.

"I thought we were okay. What do you want me to do different?"

[molotov]

"I know we aren't new anymore, but that doesn't mean we can't be like we were!" she says, letting him pull her toward him. "I just want to feel like... I don't know, like I am special to you still, or something. Like I am something more than just that sex doll at home."