so don't you let her get under your skin

[samson]

Who: Brock and Molotov
What: Chillin' out maxin' relaxin' all cool
When: Weds., 25 April, early evening
Where: Room 509
Rating: Probably PG-13, will edit if necessary :T

[Brock had been spending the majority of his time lately working on his cabin, or rather working on a garage to attach to his cabin so he could put his car somewhere to work on that. It was pretty convoluted, but the point was, he was getting married in less than a week and he should probably spend time with his fiancée instead of dicking around in the woods all the time.

So, it's just around dinnertime when he rolls in through the door. Better late than never, right? That's sort of Brock's philosophy about their whole relationship, which explains things.

Anyway, he shuts the door behind him and calls out for her.]

Hey, kitten? You home?

Comments

[molotov]

You do not think that might be dangerous, with all the children around?

[samson]

Well, they're not supposed to be by the cabin anyway. Plus the drawbridge'll have guard rails.

[molotov]

And how do you intend to lower the drawbridge when you are not in the cabin?

[samson]

Aren't you supposed to keep it down all the time? And just put it up when you're inside ...

[molotov]

Nyet, it stays up all the time unless someone is coming in or going out. Because people with drawbridges live inside those fortresses.

[samson]

Don't tell me how to use my drawbridge.

[molotov]

How you want to use your drawbridge is stupid and wrong.

[samson]

[you're stupid and wrong!!!!]

Fine. You're not invited. "No girls allowed," I'm putting that on a sign.

[molotov]

Then I can think of someplace that will quickly become "no boys allowed".

[samson]

[DON'T EVEN JOKE ABOUT THAT.

He just looks up and gives her this face.]

[molotov]

[Shrug!] Do not dish what you cannot take, Samson.

[samson]

[BUT MOLOTOV...] Don't be mean.

[molotov]

Then you don't, either.

[samson]

What? [faux innocent look, eyes wide] I'm totally nice.

[molotov]

You are the meanest man I have ever met, Brock Samson.

[samson]

That's a load of horseshit, Molotov Cocktease.

[molotov]

Oh really? What other man killed my papa and ripped my eye out and still convinced me to marry him anyway?

[samson]

Hey. Just wait until our wedding night and I'll make it up to you.

[Finished with his food, he stands up with his plate. If she's done, he'll take hers too.]

[molotov]

[She lets him take her plate, and leans back in her chair.]

I have seen what you are bringing to this marriage, and I cannot say it lends itself to anticipation.

[samson]

[Brock just snorts, carrying the plates to the kitchen and sticking them in the dishwasher.]

You're nuts, lady. You don't know what you're in for.

[molotov]

Boredom and long nights of "is it in yet"?

[samson]

No ... the opposite.

[lol defensive]

[molotov]

So... chaste sleeping?

[samson]

[Rolling his eyes, he goes back over to the table, leaning on the back of her chair and lighting a cigarette.]

I'm going to smack you.

[molotov]

So mean to me.