[Three for three, then — Mello has given more than he'd intended in such a short span of time: his body, his submission, exposure to something that no one — not even those he holds close — have seen. Be it the liquor that warms his head as much as his spine, be it a need to test the waters to gauge the extent of Greed's need to possess, Mello has gone far beyond what he would consider acceptable in the way of subjugation, whether or not the Sin realizes.]
[And his new 'boss' is a spectacle, isn't he? Trails of heat and a nonchalance that would put the most impassive to shame, Mello has it in him to provoke above all else. Test waters, nip at sharp edges until they give; the too-ambitious boy who grew into something so criminal never did have a taste for boundaries.]
[But first, first. He'll slip around the demon with the grace of the feline form he possessed before the Gods cursed him with eternal life within death, demand the utmost attention that he hasn't had enough of with languid, attentive eyes. Blood and ink and possession mean nothing in the face of exposure, and it's with no regard for personal space that the blonde slips his hand beneath the glass — possess the possessions — and seeks to pull it towards himself as though another ounce of alcohol is something he needs, right now.]
[Really, he's shared so much tonight. The least Greed can do is share a quickly-warming liquor that can be easily replaced.]
What's your endgame?
[The sanguine tint to his cheeks is irrelevant, the sway on his feet a mere side-effect. Mello's question holds the levity that it would on any other day — it's something he's always wondered, in the end.]
Gather what you figure is worthy of being yours, make Elias pay for treading on your territory — then what?
[Because there's always, always an after. No one with any sort of ambition exists in a state of comfort; contentment comes to those who aspire to nothing.]
no subject
[And his new 'boss' is a spectacle, isn't he? Trails of heat and a nonchalance that would put the most impassive to shame, Mello has it in him to provoke above all else. Test waters, nip at sharp edges until they give; the too-ambitious boy who grew into something so criminal never did have a taste for boundaries.]
[But first, first. He'll slip around the demon with the grace of the feline form he possessed before the Gods cursed him with eternal life within death, demand the utmost attention that he hasn't had enough of with languid, attentive eyes. Blood and ink and possession mean nothing in the face of exposure, and it's with no regard for personal space that the blonde slips his hand beneath the glass — possess the possessions — and seeks to pull it towards himself as though another ounce of alcohol is something he needs, right now.]
[Really, he's shared so much tonight. The least Greed can do is share a quickly-warming liquor that can be easily replaced.]
What's your endgame?
[The sanguine tint to his cheeks is irrelevant, the sway on his feet a mere side-effect. Mello's question holds the levity that it would on any other day — it's something he's always wondered, in the end.]
Gather what you figure is worthy of being yours, make Elias pay for treading on your territory — then what?
[Because there's always, always an after. No one with any sort of ambition exists in a state of comfort; contentment comes to those who aspire to nothing.]