12-06-2023, 12:49 AM
Zef knew how to get his attention. So much so, he put the sword down and faced her properly. Now Jaxen liked to think of himself as a half-decent thief, and he also liked to think he had a half-decent security system on his place. He watched her stick the tool back in her hair with a half-amused grin that said he clearly wasn’t offended, though he was now inspired to implement some upgrades.
“How about instead of breaking in, I give you an access account? Then you can let yourself in properly whenever you want. Can't promise I won't be alone, though.” His grin widened to suggest that could be much more often than once a month.
“Sorry I was late. Got kidnapped again. It sure as hell happens a lot.” He mused over why he told her that as he crossed the open space into the kitchen where he began to fix them both a drink. The buzz from Almaz was hours gone — or days depending on one’s interpretation of space and time.
She slapped an envelope on his chest that he caught in the knick of time. A lick of the fingers to slurp off the lime juice left his lips tangy, and he peeked inside.
“My brothers? That wasn’t part of—“ brows risen high, he stopped himself before declaring it a pretty shitty thing to do to his own blood relatives. He was half-fond of Ezvin, but Maksim could go use getting fucked by the Atharim. Actually, the longer he thought about it, the funnier the notion became for both of them. Eventually he nodded and mused, “Okay. My brothers. They’ll have fun with that. I don’t want anyone’s brains to be decorated with bullets, but its not my problem if someone can’t defend themselves,” he shrugged in that convoluted way of someone justifying awful shit just for their own amusement. Besides, he didn’t really think either of them would find themselves in any real danger. Not unless they get sucked into alternate dimensions, but that seemed to have nothing to do with the Atharim.
He finished the drinks and pushed one across the counter toward her if she wanted to take it. The rocks glasses were crystal clear, filled with vodka and a spray of lime, swirling amid a detailed ice cube in the shape of a skull.
From there, he leaned on his elbows, sipping the drink and locking eyes with her over the rim, tongue growing cold as it plunged into an eye socket of the skull-cube.
“How about instead of breaking in, I give you an access account? Then you can let yourself in properly whenever you want. Can't promise I won't be alone, though.” His grin widened to suggest that could be much more often than once a month.
“Sorry I was late. Got kidnapped again. It sure as hell happens a lot.” He mused over why he told her that as he crossed the open space into the kitchen where he began to fix them both a drink. The buzz from Almaz was hours gone — or days depending on one’s interpretation of space and time.
She slapped an envelope on his chest that he caught in the knick of time. A lick of the fingers to slurp off the lime juice left his lips tangy, and he peeked inside.
“My brothers? That wasn’t part of—“ brows risen high, he stopped himself before declaring it a pretty shitty thing to do to his own blood relatives. He was half-fond of Ezvin, but Maksim could go use getting fucked by the Atharim. Actually, the longer he thought about it, the funnier the notion became for both of them. Eventually he nodded and mused, “Okay. My brothers. They’ll have fun with that. I don’t want anyone’s brains to be decorated with bullets, but its not my problem if someone can’t defend themselves,” he shrugged in that convoluted way of someone justifying awful shit just for their own amusement. Besides, he didn’t really think either of them would find themselves in any real danger. Not unless they get sucked into alternate dimensions, but that seemed to have nothing to do with the Atharim.
He finished the drinks and pushed one across the counter toward her if she wanted to take it. The rocks glasses were crystal clear, filled with vodka and a spray of lime, swirling amid a detailed ice cube in the shape of a skull.
From there, he leaned on his elbows, sipping the drink and locking eyes with her over the rim, tongue growing cold as it plunged into an eye socket of the skull-cube.