Molotov Cocktease (
molotov) wrote in
paradisalogs2014-01-16 06:36 pm
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Entry tags:
☠ 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.
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.
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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?"
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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."
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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.
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He's staring at her now, though. How rude, just pretending like he's not even there...
"Now what."
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"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."
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She snorts, and then harrumphs. "I can leave you if I want. Get another man, a better one."
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"I don't think that's possible," he says, then tips his head toward her. "There's no divorce here, too."
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"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."
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"Cool, you do that," he says mildly, breathing a stream of smoke through the corner of his mouth. "I'll just kill 'em all."
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"Nope, you did it. They're all dead now. Good job."
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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."
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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.
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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.
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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."
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"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."
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"Stop acting like you do want other men," he says, frowning. It's not a very good joke, she should stop making them!
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"You need competition," she mumbles, quiet now. "You did not even want me until I started dating Guido. I never forgot that."
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"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."
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"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."
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"I thought we were okay. What do you want me to do different?"
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