[He has just enough time to snap his teeth. The warm air trapped in his lungs fogs off the tips of them. Against the whipping wind, it only lasts for a second; its moment short-lived and quick. But it doesn't matter. Because as he feels his sunglasses press up his nose, the Sin leans forward. He knows he has only seconds (precious seconds), but he takes them for all their worth. And they are worth it. Worth it all, if only for - ]
Ah - ? [He barely manages to get out before a slosh of ice flattens between his horns. It catches him off guard, making his body second guess itself before the evitable plunge. The squares of his heels grind into the snow, dragging out parallel lines that wander and wave like the backend of a car, spinning in a fishtail. No, where Michael's landing is graceful and smooth, his? It's entirely the opposite. A showering wake of ice and snow fans along either side of him and as the Sin reaches out, he sinks his claws into the ground, pulling up a cake of stiff-cold mud.]
Ha AHAHAHAHA - ! I'd say that was a pretty cheap shot. [Greed tips back on his heels to pry his nails loose. Already, the ice stuck between them is beginning to melt; his oppressive heat turning it to a sloshy, sleety mix. He stands up, shaking his wrist to flick a splattering of half-frozen muck onto the snow.] As for that, I'm not worried about your face, Blues. Mine just - ah, doesn't matter. [Running his hands through his hair, he gives it a quick shake.] And there's nothing to tell that you wouldn't know already.
[He tilts his head to the side and a slop of snow splats along his boots. Shloop. Whatever style he had to his hair is gone by this point.] So, what? Are you saying you're impressed by me now? [He starts in as a single clump of snow slides down his face. Greed takes one step forward. All around the courtyard, there's signs of where he's been: the tracks of his boots leading up to the hotel, the small divots where he's retaliated in their friendly game of fire. And as light snow begins to gradually eat them away, the Sin lets his tail tunnel through a sizable mound.]
You might not be good with people, but you wouldn't be the first. [The spines at the tip of his tail scrape at the snow, breaking it apart into sizable, throwable chunks.] Outcasts, Michael. Here, before. They always come to me. Those that could never live a normal kind of life - [Trailing off, the Sin slides his eyes slyly to the side. Ah, and there's that look again. That terrible, awful look.] - that much hasn't changed. Might not think it, but I've always been a fan of the underdog.
[He takes his moment, then. With a whipping snap, the former homunculus yanks his tail from the snow, sending a curtain of ice out in front of him. It shoots into the air like a spray. One thick, whitening, and maybe, just maybe, disorienting enough that he won't see him coming. No one said he couldn't play dirty, after all. And as he slides forward, he crouches down, grabbing two more handfuls of snow.]
[One, he aims for Michael's face. But the other? He'll try to get down the front of shirt.]
Ah - ? [He barely manages to get out before a slosh of ice flattens between his horns. It catches him off guard, making his body second guess itself before the evitable plunge. The squares of his heels grind into the snow, dragging out parallel lines that wander and wave like the backend of a car, spinning in a fishtail. No, where Michael's landing is graceful and smooth, his? It's entirely the opposite. A showering wake of ice and snow fans along either side of him and as the Sin reaches out, he sinks his claws into the ground, pulling up a cake of stiff-cold mud.]
Ha AHAHAHAHA - ! I'd say that was a pretty cheap shot. [Greed tips back on his heels to pry his nails loose. Already, the ice stuck between them is beginning to melt; his oppressive heat turning it to a sloshy, sleety mix. He stands up, shaking his wrist to flick a splattering of half-frozen muck onto the snow.] As for that, I'm not worried about your face, Blues. Mine just - ah, doesn't matter. [Running his hands through his hair, he gives it a quick shake.] And there's nothing to tell that you wouldn't know already.
[He tilts his head to the side and a slop of snow splats along his boots. Shloop. Whatever style he had to his hair is gone by this point.] So, what? Are you saying you're impressed by me now? [He starts in as a single clump of snow slides down his face. Greed takes one step forward. All around the courtyard, there's signs of where he's been: the tracks of his boots leading up to the hotel, the small divots where he's retaliated in their friendly game of fire. And as light snow begins to gradually eat them away, the Sin lets his tail tunnel through a sizable mound.]
You might not be good with people, but you wouldn't be the first. [The spines at the tip of his tail scrape at the snow, breaking it apart into sizable, throwable chunks.] Outcasts, Michael. Here, before. They always come to me. Those that could never live a normal kind of life - [Trailing off, the Sin slides his eyes slyly to the side. Ah, and there's that look again. That terrible, awful look.] - that much hasn't changed. Might not think it, but I've always been a fan of the underdog.
[He takes his moment, then. With a whipping snap, the former homunculus yanks his tail from the snow, sending a curtain of ice out in front of him. It shoots into the air like a spray. One thick, whitening, and maybe, just maybe, disorienting enough that he won't see him coming. No one said he couldn't play dirty, after all. And as he slides forward, he crouches down, grabbing two more handfuls of snow.]
[One, he aims for Michael's face. But the other? He'll try to get down the front of shirt.]
[ Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! ]
[ Maurice reaches out and plops a hand between Greed's ears and gives him a good pet. His fur is so soft! Maurice strokes the giant cat man's head and ears and the side of his nec (if he can reach it) for a long moment. It's so nice to pet a kitty. Until he died, he's been allergic. And animals in general didn't like him much when he was a vampire.]
[ Greed's proposal makes sure Maurice doesn't get totally lost in the sauce. He withdraws his hand, satisfied, and takes up his glass again. His brows drift up as he processes what Greed has said. ]
Like a job...? I mean...the radio station doesn't take up a whole lot of my time. I never thought of working in a bar b'fore...could be interesting. What d'you need help with?
[ Maurice reaches out and plops a hand between Greed's ears and gives him a good pet. His fur is so soft! Maurice strokes the giant cat man's head and ears and the side of his nec (if he can reach it) for a long moment. It's so nice to pet a kitty. Until he died, he's been allergic. And animals in general didn't like him much when he was a vampire.]
[ Greed's proposal makes sure Maurice doesn't get totally lost in the sauce. He withdraws his hand, satisfied, and takes up his glass again. His brows drift up as he processes what Greed has said. ]
Like a job...? I mean...the radio station doesn't take up a whole lot of my time. I never thought of working in a bar b'fore...could be interesting. What d'you need help with?
Two days, that must be a record amount of silence coming from you.
I realize saying that this isn’t necessary is pointless, so I will take it — but not out. I am feeling less than festive and I just so happen to know a place that makes the best noodles up here. They deliver.
It seems I’ve developed a taste for them. So your accountant can keep his secrets for now.
Dress nicely. Sleeves are optional.
[ He might be smiling on his end for this one. ]
I realize saying that this isn’t necessary is pointless, so I will take it — but not out. I am feeling less than festive and I just so happen to know a place that makes the best noodles up here. They deliver.
It seems I’ve developed a taste for them. So your accountant can keep his secrets for now.
Dress nicely. Sleeves are optional.
[ He might be smiling on his end for this one. ]
Was it? I believe I remember someone telling me all is fair in love and war.
[ He watches the whole display, noting how quickly the ice melts. Well, at least someone is equipped to deal with this weather. Were he anyone else, he might have been a little jealous but the warm clothing, as long as it isn’t cumbersome, is not a huge imposition. Tedious maybe, but not to the degree of warranting the jealousy. ]
Impressed? Don’t be absurd, it will take more than fancy footwork and ingenuity to impress me, Greed, but you’re well on your way. Let’s take care of that pride now, before your head gets so large that you’re unable to fit in the elevator for the ride down.
[ His attention lingers on the chunks and he nearly grins. This may be all in good fun but (aside from the Purge) it has been a long time since he was able to move like this. He is both thankful and impressed. ]
No, I would never expect you to root for anyone but the underdog. The underdog has everything going against them, much like the outcasts that flock to him, but everything to gain. When one feels they have nothing to lose, that is when they feel the most alive.
[ Michael digs a heel into the snow-covered earth to give himself a better foothold when he snaps his wings in an attempt to thwart the oncoming distraction. It is somewhat successful but appears to leave him wide open to both snowballs.
Funny enough, he lets the first one strike him in the face and shakes his head to clear his vision. He snatches up the wrist of the hand going to dump the snow and tries to twist it, letting the snow flurry over the top of his head instead. He hasn’t even begun to get into this fight yet, snow is not the only weapon available to him.
But there is no pride in his eyes when he hooks his foot around Greed’s leg to try and knock him off balance — just enough to make him stumble forward a little so he is easier to reach. Why? Well, all six of his wings create a loose cocoon around them both as he leans up, catches him by the chin and locks their lips together. Soft and hesitant but lingering.
When he pulls back, he is still close enough to smell him, to taste the lingering hint of nicotine on his mouth. But is there victory in his eyes? No, he looks so incredibly torn. Finally, nonchalantly, he begins to withdraw. ]
I yield. [ With a snap of his fingers, the vest reappears on Greed. Now that is a cheap parting shot. ] I suppose that makes this your win.
[ He watches the whole display, noting how quickly the ice melts. Well, at least someone is equipped to deal with this weather. Were he anyone else, he might have been a little jealous but the warm clothing, as long as it isn’t cumbersome, is not a huge imposition. Tedious maybe, but not to the degree of warranting the jealousy. ]
Impressed? Don’t be absurd, it will take more than fancy footwork and ingenuity to impress me, Greed, but you’re well on your way. Let’s take care of that pride now, before your head gets so large that you’re unable to fit in the elevator for the ride down.
[ His attention lingers on the chunks and he nearly grins. This may be all in good fun but (aside from the Purge) it has been a long time since he was able to move like this. He is both thankful and impressed. ]
No, I would never expect you to root for anyone but the underdog. The underdog has everything going against them, much like the outcasts that flock to him, but everything to gain. When one feels they have nothing to lose, that is when they feel the most alive.
[ Michael digs a heel into the snow-covered earth to give himself a better foothold when he snaps his wings in an attempt to thwart the oncoming distraction. It is somewhat successful but appears to leave him wide open to both snowballs.
Funny enough, he lets the first one strike him in the face and shakes his head to clear his vision. He snatches up the wrist of the hand going to dump the snow and tries to twist it, letting the snow flurry over the top of his head instead. He hasn’t even begun to get into this fight yet, snow is not the only weapon available to him.
But there is no pride in his eyes when he hooks his foot around Greed’s leg to try and knock him off balance — just enough to make him stumble forward a little so he is easier to reach. Why? Well, all six of his wings create a loose cocoon around them both as he leans up, catches him by the chin and locks their lips together. Soft and hesitant but lingering.
When he pulls back, he is still close enough to smell him, to taste the lingering hint of nicotine on his mouth. But is there victory in his eyes? No, he looks so incredibly torn. Finally, nonchalantly, he begins to withdraw. ]
I yield. [ With a snap of his fingers, the vest reappears on Greed. Now that is a cheap parting shot. ] I suppose that makes this your win.
and youre still a pissant. maybe i just had something to take care of hmn ?
[He drops what's left of his cigarette into an open glass, letting it sink into yesterday's leftovers.]
eh looks like most places are closed anyway. so your place then. just give me the time and i'll be there
[Greed arches his eyebrows, creasing his forehead. A taste for noodles, huh?]
ha! suit yourself. kento's got a habit of making it complicated. easier this way
[The Sin slides off the stool. There's a long pause before the next message. Because as he lets his eyes flick down the bar, he catches something in his sights. Something he specifically went out for, that he specifically bought, and ah, that says it all, doesn't it?]
[Greed 'tsks' out of the corner of his mouth.]
yeah yeah sure. whatever you want. but leave the door open for me this time. i'll find my way up
[He drops what's left of his cigarette into an open glass, letting it sink into yesterday's leftovers.]
eh looks like most places are closed anyway. so your place then. just give me the time and i'll be there
[Greed arches his eyebrows, creasing his forehead. A taste for noodles, huh?]
ha! suit yourself. kento's got a habit of making it complicated. easier this way
[The Sin slides off the stool. There's a long pause before the next message. Because as he lets his eyes flick down the bar, he catches something in his sights. Something he specifically went out for, that he specifically bought, and ah, that says it all, doesn't it?]
[Greed 'tsks' out of the corner of his mouth.]
yeah yeah sure. whatever you want. but leave the door open for me this time. i'll find my way up
Oh? Enlighten me. What has kept you so busy? It’s been too quiet without you scaling my balcony.
[ He, meanwhile, is fussing with paperwork at his desk. Plans for the future of the upcoming reintroduction of the self-defense course. This is a worthwhile distraction. ]
Even Heaven is mindful of those wanting to spend the holidays with their families. Evidently there are Christmas specials on. How does 7PM sound?
[ Despite the fact that the cat is blind, Argus looks at him in a way that has him making a face. Everyone is judged eventually. ]
Is it complicated or does he simply know what he wants? He seems like a man who prefers control rather than chaos, I expect that trickles into his dining choices as well.
[ Hold on a moment now, the door? He never uses the front door, so he laughs it off. ]
Are you going to serenade me too? If I had a heart, it would be fluttering. The door is unlocked, as requested.
[ He, meanwhile, is fussing with paperwork at his desk. Plans for the future of the upcoming reintroduction of the self-defense course. This is a worthwhile distraction. ]
Even Heaven is mindful of those wanting to spend the holidays with their families. Evidently there are Christmas specials on. How does 7PM sound?
[ Despite the fact that the cat is blind, Argus looks at him in a way that has him making a face. Everyone is judged eventually. ]
Is it complicated or does he simply know what he wants? He seems like a man who prefers control rather than chaos, I expect that trickles into his dining choices as well.
[ Hold on a moment now, the door? He never uses the front door, so he laughs it off. ]
Are you going to serenade me too? If I had a heart, it would be fluttering. The door is unlocked, as requested.
oh ? miss me blue eyes? all you have to do is ask. but just business. nothing ya gotta worry yourself over.
[AKA, it's probably something questionably legal, questionably moral, and no doubt, something a bit more on the scale of arguably gray.]
[Greed clicks his tongue against the inside of his cheek.]
and it looks like hell has other ideas. and what do you mean christmas specials? yknow hold that thought. youre probably going to tell me all about it when i get thrre arent you?
[He grins to himself, pocketing a damp pile of money off the bar. But for once? He doesn't care if he has to listen to an hour-long lecture. Some things are worth the time.]
complicated. a dinner doesnt have to be a whole whatever the hell that was. but youre right about one thing. the man does know what he wants
[The Sin turns away and his tail wafts out behind him, shaking softly. He snaps at the air with his teeth.]
oi oi oi. ive told you before dont take me for something i'm not. just would be a little hard is all considerig
[AKA, it's probably something questionably legal, questionably moral, and no doubt, something a bit more on the scale of arguably gray.]
[Greed clicks his tongue against the inside of his cheek.]
and it looks like hell has other ideas. and what do you mean christmas specials? yknow hold that thought. youre probably going to tell me all about it when i get thrre arent you?
[He grins to himself, pocketing a damp pile of money off the bar. But for once? He doesn't care if he has to listen to an hour-long lecture. Some things are worth the time.]
complicated. a dinner doesnt have to be a whole whatever the hell that was. but youre right about one thing. the man does know what he wants
[The Sin turns away and his tail wafts out behind him, shaking softly. He snaps at the air with his teeth.]
oi oi oi. ive told you before dont take me for something i'm not. just would be a little hard is all considerig
I enjoy your company, it would be strange if I didn’t miss you, wouldn't it? I will take your word for it, something tells me I won’t like the details if I try and pry further.
[ Not even a question at this point, he knows he has his claws in questionable people and things. ]
You know me too well. Very well, I will save it until you get here. Just give me a few minutes to make the room presentable.
[ Mike. Mike. His room is so clean that someone could perform surgery here and never worry about the field. No, there is another reason he wants time — he wants to make himself presentable.
Of course not, but it can be. Let me rephrase. Anyone who works for you needs to have a certain level of patience and an ability to look the other way. I mean that with the utmost respect, of course. Complication is practically a guarantee.
[ Pfft! He is waiting to see if he will deny it outright or cop to it. ]
You missed an opportunity to appall me with your humor, color me surprised. So I will do it for you: aren’t you always hard? Due to your Shield.
[ Not even a question at this point, he knows he has his claws in questionable people and things. ]
You know me too well. Very well, I will save it until you get here. Just give me a few minutes to make the room presentable.
[ Mike. Mike. His room is so clean that someone could perform surgery here and never worry about the field. No, there is another reason he wants time — he wants to make himself presentable.
Of course not, but it can be. Let me rephrase. Anyone who works for you needs to have a certain level of patience and an ability to look the other way. I mean that with the utmost respect, of course. Complication is practically a guarantee.
[ Pfft! He is waiting to see if he will deny it outright or cop to it. ]
You missed an opportunity to appall me with your humor, color me surprised. So I will do it for you: aren’t you always hard? Due to your Shield.
didnt mean it seriously blues. and ah no not exactly something youd be too interested in
[He nudges the stool back with his heel.]
known you long enough to get that much. and presentable ? you dont have to impress me. besides i doubt the place is as bad as you think it is
[Because Michael's room? It's always spotless. And he could question it further, but then again. Even if a single piece of paper is out of place, it'd be all too much for the man. So, he shrugs, brushing off the idea.]
[No one said he was the smartest creature.]
when you deal with the people i do its not about looking away or patience. ive always worked in the underground M. its more about knowing when and who to talk to and when to not
i'm sure you do. but you know me i like to keep things simllpe when i can. and i haven't heard a lot of complaints yet
[When he reads the last bit of text, the former homunculus throws his head back, howling at the ceiling. Since when did Michael, of all people, get to be such a little shit?]
oh ho - ! didnt think you had it in you blye eyes. and maybe i am maybe im not. depends on what im doing doesnt it? but i guess you'll just have to wait and see
[He nudges the stool back with his heel.]
known you long enough to get that much. and presentable ? you dont have to impress me. besides i doubt the place is as bad as you think it is
[Because Michael's room? It's always spotless. And he could question it further, but then again. Even if a single piece of paper is out of place, it'd be all too much for the man. So, he shrugs, brushing off the idea.]
[No one said he was the smartest creature.]
when you deal with the people i do its not about looking away or patience. ive always worked in the underground M. its more about knowing when and who to talk to and when to not
i'm sure you do. but you know me i like to keep things simllpe when i can. and i haven't heard a lot of complaints yet
[When he reads the last bit of text, the former homunculus throws his head back, howling at the ceiling. Since when did Michael, of all people, get to be such a little shit?]
oh ho - ! didnt think you had it in you blye eyes. and maybe i am maybe im not. depends on what im doing doesnt it? but i guess you'll just have to wait and see
[A slosh of ice slides down the side of his jaw, meeting his grin and splitting. This is a different side of Michael he rarely (if ever) gets to see. Where duty and paperwork have been brushed aside and the fight isn't one between righteousness and a perceived threat, but a way to let loose. To let loose, to unwind, and to be free for maybe the first time ever in his life.]
Love and war, huh? Didn't think it was that serious, Blue Eyes. [The thick cloud of fog hanging around his face thins and the Sin jerks his hips, shoving his heel deep into the snow. At first, he thinks he has the upper hand. Even when Michael grabs his wrist and twists it, the expression on his face is as wild as ever. No, this fight has barely begun, and it wouldn't be the Archangel he knows if he let him down so easy. It's been trained into him: how to maneuver and manipulate the situation to play the odds out in his favor.]
[But he's so focused on his face that he easily misses the next move. There's a foot around his leg, a tug of gravity, and the former homunculus (surprised, but not shocked) claps his jaws together, readying himself for a painful blow. Michael Morningstar may not look much to most. But ah, he's said it, hasn't he? How looks can be oh-so deceiving.]
[And he's ready for it. The 'Shield trembles up his neck, instinctually fingering at his chin in preparation, and the Sin goes solidly stiff.]
[What he isn't ready for is the gentle touch on his chin and the kiss that follows, as chaste and light as the snow all around them.]
[Greed blinks through the haze. He can taste Michael on his lips, the graze of him, the clean kind of sweetness (crisp, barely there like crystal-clear water) of him against the leftover tobacco sticking to his teeth. It's fresh is what it is. Fresh, feather-weight, yet painfully, painfully brief.]
[Which is why, for a second, he says nothing at all and just watches him; the look on his face, as dumbfounded as a man on the receiving end of a five-finger slap.] Tsk - [The former homunculus shoots his hand out, trying to snag any part of Michael that he can (be it his shirt, his collar, or anything else within his grabbing, gaping reach).]
[He doesn't even seem to care when the vest reappears on his back, bringing the comfortable fur of his collar pluming along his neck. No, oh no. He's got something else in mind. Something he's been waiting a long, long time for.]
[Greed skirts air between his teeth, wheezing it over their sharp, knifing points.] - oi, oi, oi. It wasn't about winning, Blues. [Another slip of melting snow trickles down the back of his neck and dives behind his vest.]
[He makes an effort to lean in, then; his whole body chasing after Michael's retreat like a shadow, stretching with sun. Greed bows his head and as his fingers loosen their grip, a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.] Wouldn't have made a difference, y'know. If I won or not. That was never the point. [When he leans forward, he makes an effort to try to find Michael's forehead with his own; the touch of the jewel in his forehead warm despite the chill.] But I'll say one thing.
[Slowly, his eyes peel open and a shimmer of red teases behind them.]
It took you long enough.
Love and war, huh? Didn't think it was that serious, Blue Eyes. [The thick cloud of fog hanging around his face thins and the Sin jerks his hips, shoving his heel deep into the snow. At first, he thinks he has the upper hand. Even when Michael grabs his wrist and twists it, the expression on his face is as wild as ever. No, this fight has barely begun, and it wouldn't be the Archangel he knows if he let him down so easy. It's been trained into him: how to maneuver and manipulate the situation to play the odds out in his favor.]
[But he's so focused on his face that he easily misses the next move. There's a foot around his leg, a tug of gravity, and the former homunculus (surprised, but not shocked) claps his jaws together, readying himself for a painful blow. Michael Morningstar may not look much to most. But ah, he's said it, hasn't he? How looks can be oh-so deceiving.]
[And he's ready for it. The 'Shield trembles up his neck, instinctually fingering at his chin in preparation, and the Sin goes solidly stiff.]
[What he isn't ready for is the gentle touch on his chin and the kiss that follows, as chaste and light as the snow all around them.]
[Greed blinks through the haze. He can taste Michael on his lips, the graze of him, the clean kind of sweetness (crisp, barely there like crystal-clear water) of him against the leftover tobacco sticking to his teeth. It's fresh is what it is. Fresh, feather-weight, yet painfully, painfully brief.]
[Which is why, for a second, he says nothing at all and just watches him; the look on his face, as dumbfounded as a man on the receiving end of a five-finger slap.] Tsk - [The former homunculus shoots his hand out, trying to snag any part of Michael that he can (be it his shirt, his collar, or anything else within his grabbing, gaping reach).]
[He doesn't even seem to care when the vest reappears on his back, bringing the comfortable fur of his collar pluming along his neck. No, oh no. He's got something else in mind. Something he's been waiting a long, long time for.]
[Greed skirts air between his teeth, wheezing it over their sharp, knifing points.] - oi, oi, oi. It wasn't about winning, Blues. [Another slip of melting snow trickles down the back of his neck and dives behind his vest.]
[He makes an effort to lean in, then; his whole body chasing after Michael's retreat like a shadow, stretching with sun. Greed bows his head and as his fingers loosen their grip, a faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.] Wouldn't have made a difference, y'know. If I won or not. That was never the point. [When he leans forward, he makes an effort to try to find Michael's forehead with his own; the touch of the jewel in his forehead warm despite the chill.] But I'll say one thing.
[Slowly, his eyes peel open and a shimmer of red teases behind them.]
It took you long enough.
[ War is always serious, no matter the species. This is why the offspring of animals partake in playful spars of their own to prepare them for a predestined life that favors the continuation of their bloodlines rather than love, a life wrought with danger. Love is something they cannot afford in their even shorter lives, it is kill or be killed.
Even so, love and war will always go hand in hand.
But as much as he might be dwelling too harshly on the words, he is finally letting go. He is doing what everyone here has asked him to, to stop living for people other than himself when those people are not here. As unfamiliar as it might be, it does feel nice.
The smile on his face is almost boyish and his attire, at least his shirt, is partially untucked and lightly wrinkled. His hair? Unkempt. But the way Greed stands there without a word has him thinking he has over-stepped his boundaries. A disadvantage in a battle would normally have him retreating to find a better vantage point, where he could take the time to assess and troubleshoot.
He does not have that here, not when he feels his escape halted by claws. Not to rip or tear, but just to encourage him to stay. If he had a heart, it would be rattling in his chest like a pinball. As it stands, a breath that is unnecessary to take catches in his throat to give away his anticipation. ]
Don’t take part in a battle with that kind of attitude, things can change quickly.
[ A reprimand, sure, but his tone is soft and somewhat fond, as his hand finds the hand that grabbed him. For a moment, all he does is gingerly stroke at the claws, still wrapping his mind around the fact that he did this at all. To be so impulsive is unlike him. ]
I don’t know if it was the right choice, but it was a choice. My choice. Does that count for anything? [ Michael never tries to avoid his gaze. In fact, he seems to be looking so intently, like he expects the answer to his unease will be there. Only when he finds nothing does he start to shy away a fraction.
What is done is done and now he is at a loss. What happens now? Is it wrong of him to think that seeing him the following day won’t be a problem? He did not do this for a guarantee, not for a taste of something forbidden or any other frivolous claim. A kiss is typically reserved for humans, and they are not human, to breed connection, but it also be a show of respect.
No, even he knows he didn’t do this for that reason.
Should he apologize? No, at least not after he feels himself easing forward so their foreheads can meet. The warmth, as big a contrast as the man himself, has Michael sinking against him, his wings drawing back to reveal the display. He does not care who sees, that alone startles him.
Before making contact and closing his eyes, blue meets red as he takes in the glow. Quietly, more to himself than to his company: ]
Patience is a virtue.
Even so, love and war will always go hand in hand.
But as much as he might be dwelling too harshly on the words, he is finally letting go. He is doing what everyone here has asked him to, to stop living for people other than himself when those people are not here. As unfamiliar as it might be, it does feel nice.
The smile on his face is almost boyish and his attire, at least his shirt, is partially untucked and lightly wrinkled. His hair? Unkempt. But the way Greed stands there without a word has him thinking he has over-stepped his boundaries. A disadvantage in a battle would normally have him retreating to find a better vantage point, where he could take the time to assess and troubleshoot.
He does not have that here, not when he feels his escape halted by claws. Not to rip or tear, but just to encourage him to stay. If he had a heart, it would be rattling in his chest like a pinball. As it stands, a breath that is unnecessary to take catches in his throat to give away his anticipation. ]
Don’t take part in a battle with that kind of attitude, things can change quickly.
[ A reprimand, sure, but his tone is soft and somewhat fond, as his hand finds the hand that grabbed him. For a moment, all he does is gingerly stroke at the claws, still wrapping his mind around the fact that he did this at all. To be so impulsive is unlike him. ]
I don’t know if it was the right choice, but it was a choice. My choice. Does that count for anything? [ Michael never tries to avoid his gaze. In fact, he seems to be looking so intently, like he expects the answer to his unease will be there. Only when he finds nothing does he start to shy away a fraction.
What is done is done and now he is at a loss. What happens now? Is it wrong of him to think that seeing him the following day won’t be a problem? He did not do this for a guarantee, not for a taste of something forbidden or any other frivolous claim. A kiss is typically reserved for humans, and they are not human, to breed connection, but it also be a show of respect.
No, even he knows he didn’t do this for that reason.
Should he apologize? No, at least not after he feels himself easing forward so their foreheads can meet. The warmth, as big a contrast as the man himself, has Michael sinking against him, his wings drawing back to reveal the display. He does not care who sees, that alone startles him.
Before making contact and closing his eyes, blue meets red as he takes in the glow. Quietly, more to himself than to his company: ]
Patience is a virtue.
No? I suppose something like that is hard to discern through a text message. All the same, it still stands true. I appreciate the honesty, even though I already know that you say you do not lie.
[ Argus is looking at him again. Ah, a truth for a truth, he supposes. ]
My hotel room is immaculate but I am not. The next month is going to be a blur, I have been working on something and getting a building ready to renovate for it. Ten minutes is all I need, then you may come by.
[ Well, he is far from wrong there, Michael has no idea what goes on behind the scenes, just what he has witnessed for himself. ]
I believe that would make you a shrewd businessman, wouldn’t it? Considering your trade, it is no wonder people come to you. They know you will be discreet.
[ Michael, of course, knows he got a laugh out of him. ]
Please give me some credit, I spend an awful lot of time in Hell. I would be more concerned if I didn’t pick up a thing or two.
Ten minutes. If I don’t answer, let yourself in.
[ Argus is looking at him again. Ah, a truth for a truth, he supposes. ]
My hotel room is immaculate but I am not. The next month is going to be a blur, I have been working on something and getting a building ready to renovate for it. Ten minutes is all I need, then you may come by.
[ Well, he is far from wrong there, Michael has no idea what goes on behind the scenes, just what he has witnessed for himself. ]
I believe that would make you a shrewd businessman, wouldn’t it? Considering your trade, it is no wonder people come to you. They know you will be discreet.
[ Michael, of course, knows he got a laugh out of him. ]
Please give me some credit, I spend an awful lot of time in Hell. I would be more concerned if I didn’t pick up a thing or two.
Ten minutes. If I don’t answer, let yourself in.
is it? guess you have a poiint. still getting used to all this. its a whole lot easier to do it in person. the phones back where i come from were just used for talkin. they didnt have all this. ah well
[He scoops his keys off the counter, hooking them by the ring with his middle finger.]
right. youve got that little self defense thing going on dont you? let me know if you could use a hand with things. could say i have some experience. [The Sin pauses and as he tucks a flimsy cardboard box under his arm, he draws his lower lip along one of his teeth, squeezing it against his gums.]
wouldnt be free of course but i could make the time. and is that a compliment blues? [His eyes tick behind his sunglasses, cool and hot.] people always come to me just like their rumors. and i'd be prety bad at my job if i just gave it all away. greed, M. its not just a name. but i dont have to tell you that do i
[He toes the front door open and an icy breeze bites at his face. Greed curls his mouth.]
oh im giving you plenty of credit. just thought that righteousness of yours wouldnt let you. glad to see that isnt the case.
ten minutes. and you dont have to tell me twice
[He scoops his keys off the counter, hooking them by the ring with his middle finger.]
right. youve got that little self defense thing going on dont you? let me know if you could use a hand with things. could say i have some experience. [The Sin pauses and as he tucks a flimsy cardboard box under his arm, he draws his lower lip along one of his teeth, squeezing it against his gums.]
wouldnt be free of course but i could make the time. and is that a compliment blues? [His eyes tick behind his sunglasses, cool and hot.] people always come to me just like their rumors. and i'd be prety bad at my job if i just gave it all away. greed, M. its not just a name. but i dont have to tell you that do i
[He toes the front door open and an icy breeze bites at his face. Greed curls his mouth.]
oh im giving you plenty of credit. just thought that righteousness of yours wouldnt let you. glad to see that isnt the case.
ten minutes. and you dont have to tell me twice
➥ 2/2 Action because I'm not ruining your inbox enough already
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nestingdevil
2025-01-22 03:24 am (UTC)(link)
[Upon arrival though, the Sin's taken on an entirely different tune.]
[Greed stands outside the door. The suit he's picked out isn't fancy by any means, but it definitely isn't his first choice. A slip of velvet creases the lapels, which he fidgets with absently as he adjusts and readjusts it like something that doesn't fit quite right. The fit, though, isn't the problem. It's the strain of it. How it hugs his shoulders and cuts into his arms, crisp and tight.]
["Dress nicely," he'd asked. And hadn't he told him to start asking for more? To start taking, to start having, instead of constantly denying himself?]
[Who knew it'd end up being such a pain in his ass?]
[The former homunculus lets the collar drop from his claws. Even if he is dressed nicer than usual, habits like his are hard to break. So instead of knocking, he jerks his wrist, turning out his pinkie finger like a spring-loaded knife. He shoves it into the slot where a keycard would normally go and after the fourth or fifth try, something inside clicks, lighting the panel a beckoning, welcoming green.]
[Greed proudly grins to himself. The technology here may be beyond him, but sometimes the tried and true methods still have their merits. And as he hears the lock whrr with its gears, he eases his shoulder against the door, making it swing softly open.]
[If anyone had told him he'd become a frequent flier to this room (this room in particular) months ago, he would have laughed. But it's been months. Months since they started their midnight conversations, their early morning chats. He knows this place now almost as much as he knows the bar; each and every corner of it, thoroughly memorized.]
[So, when he sets his keys on the counter, he doesn't have see where he's placing them. Their soft clnk is more than enough for him to go by.]
Gave you a little longer than ten minutes - [Greed starts. He rummages through the pockets of his jeans to add to his pile. Two matchboxes and a pack of cigarettes find themselves topside, along with a couple of coins and a bent-shaped business card from some sort of unsavory place in Hell. The Sin checks his other pocket, dipping his head.]
- hope that was enough time for ya. [He pauses and lifts his chin while shoving his sunglasses up and over the gem in his forehead. And it's there, that he leaves them; their body balanced dangerously between his horns.]
Ah - ? You there, Feathers?
[Greed stands outside the door. The suit he's picked out isn't fancy by any means, but it definitely isn't his first choice. A slip of velvet creases the lapels, which he fidgets with absently as he adjusts and readjusts it like something that doesn't fit quite right. The fit, though, isn't the problem. It's the strain of it. How it hugs his shoulders and cuts into his arms, crisp and tight.]
["Dress nicely," he'd asked. And hadn't he told him to start asking for more? To start taking, to start having, instead of constantly denying himself?]
[Who knew it'd end up being such a pain in his ass?]
[The former homunculus lets the collar drop from his claws. Even if he is dressed nicer than usual, habits like his are hard to break. So instead of knocking, he jerks his wrist, turning out his pinkie finger like a spring-loaded knife. He shoves it into the slot where a keycard would normally go and after the fourth or fifth try, something inside clicks, lighting the panel a beckoning, welcoming green.]
[Greed proudly grins to himself. The technology here may be beyond him, but sometimes the tried and true methods still have their merits. And as he hears the lock whrr with its gears, he eases his shoulder against the door, making it swing softly open.]
[If anyone had told him he'd become a frequent flier to this room (this room in particular) months ago, he would have laughed. But it's been months. Months since they started their midnight conversations, their early morning chats. He knows this place now almost as much as he knows the bar; each and every corner of it, thoroughly memorized.]
[So, when he sets his keys on the counter, he doesn't have see where he's placing them. Their soft clnk is more than enough for him to go by.]
Gave you a little longer than ten minutes - [Greed starts. He rummages through the pockets of his jeans to add to his pile. Two matchboxes and a pack of cigarettes find themselves topside, along with a couple of coins and a bent-shaped business card from some sort of unsavory place in Hell. The Sin checks his other pocket, dipping his head.]
- hope that was enough time for ya. [He pauses and lifts his chin while shoving his sunglasses up and over the gem in his forehead. And it's there, that he leaves them; their body balanced dangerously between his horns.]
Ah - ? You there, Feathers?
[ His voice rings out from his bedroom: ] Why would I invite you over if I wasn’t here?
[ Michael sounds amused and the sound of a chair being pushed in, followed by the soft rustling of material, fills the room. He doesn’t step out immediately, running his hands through his hair to try and make himself presentable. This is so awkward, he has never been concerned about things like this before. ]
Did you mean what you said about helping out? I can pay you for your time, of course. It wouldn’t be for free. Name your price, I’ll be paying anyone who wants to be an instructor as well. I want to make sure what the students are taught is done correctly.
[ He steps into view wearing a nice suit of his own and has actually attempted to tame his hair — attempted because it still sticks up on the sides. That is what took him so long, and the fact that it still looks wet. Because it is. His hair tends to fluff up when it dries.
When he emerges, he makes no secret of the fact that he is sizing Greed up. Slow and steady, those bright blue eyes scan him over from his toes to the top of his horns, appreciatively taking in his effort. He knows how he feels about sleeves. ]
You look nice, thank you. The food should be here soon, I took the liberty of ordering a handful of different things. Though I’m sure they will pale in comparison to the spice of Hell. [ Despite the fact that he just put it on, he shrugs out of his coat and drapes it over the back of a chair, rolling his sleeves up. Perhaps choosing a white suit when eating notoriously messy food was a bad idea but he tried.
When he hoists them up a little too high, he reveals the scars on his arm. Upon noticing, he rubs at them awkwardly before gesturing to the living room to offer him a seat. They are a blemish, an imperfection, and while he typically appreciates reminders, this one is different. Everything is as immaculate as ever save for his desk, which is nearly piled high with hand written notes and details about the self-defense topic. Everything from hand-to-hand combat to magic, he has left no stone untouched and it shows in his face.
He looks a little tired, with a soft dark hue under both eyes. ]
You really couldn’t help yourself, could you? I would make a second key for you but I think breaking into my room would lose its magic if you couldn’t pick the lock.
[ And he has to keep him coming back somehow. It is a small price to pay for good company. ]
What was all that about my righteousness? I’m really not as rigid as you think I am. When you’re so accustomed to showing one face to people, everything else tends to get left behind. It just took time for me to hit my stride, as they say.
[ Michael sounds amused and the sound of a chair being pushed in, followed by the soft rustling of material, fills the room. He doesn’t step out immediately, running his hands through his hair to try and make himself presentable. This is so awkward, he has never been concerned about things like this before. ]
Did you mean what you said about helping out? I can pay you for your time, of course. It wouldn’t be for free. Name your price, I’ll be paying anyone who wants to be an instructor as well. I want to make sure what the students are taught is done correctly.
[ He steps into view wearing a nice suit of his own and has actually attempted to tame his hair — attempted because it still sticks up on the sides. That is what took him so long, and the fact that it still looks wet. Because it is. His hair tends to fluff up when it dries.
When he emerges, he makes no secret of the fact that he is sizing Greed up. Slow and steady, those bright blue eyes scan him over from his toes to the top of his horns, appreciatively taking in his effort. He knows how he feels about sleeves. ]
You look nice, thank you. The food should be here soon, I took the liberty of ordering a handful of different things. Though I’m sure they will pale in comparison to the spice of Hell. [ Despite the fact that he just put it on, he shrugs out of his coat and drapes it over the back of a chair, rolling his sleeves up. Perhaps choosing a white suit when eating notoriously messy food was a bad idea but he tried.
When he hoists them up a little too high, he reveals the scars on his arm. Upon noticing, he rubs at them awkwardly before gesturing to the living room to offer him a seat. They are a blemish, an imperfection, and while he typically appreciates reminders, this one is different. Everything is as immaculate as ever save for his desk, which is nearly piled high with hand written notes and details about the self-defense topic. Everything from hand-to-hand combat to magic, he has left no stone untouched and it shows in his face.
He looks a little tired, with a soft dark hue under both eyes. ]
You really couldn’t help yourself, could you? I would make a second key for you but I think breaking into my room would lose its magic if you couldn’t pick the lock.
[ And he has to keep him coming back somehow. It is a small price to pay for good company. ]
What was all that about my righteousness? I’m really not as rigid as you think I am. When you’re so accustomed to showing one face to people, everything else tends to get left behind. It just took time for me to hit my stride, as they say.
[The Sin's tail licks out behind him and with a flick, he sends another splintering of ice pelting to the ground, making small imprints in the snow. He lets a shallow breath slip between his teeth. No, he knows all about war. How it always costs more, how it never comes cheap. But this isn't a battleground, even if the tracks in the ice say otherwise. It's that other half of the equation. And while he doesn't know it, while he never quite will, wanting. Ah, is that a language he can understand.]
[Starting from the pinkie and moving up, Greed splays out his fingers. He keeps the hooks of his claws curled closer to the inside of his palm, leaving their soft edges open to the touch.] If we were really fighting, I don't think we'd be having this conversation, Blues. [His eyes sink heavy at the rims of his sunglasses. There's something almost unreadable about his look: the stillness as he follows after Michael's hand, the slight twitch in his gaze as the slits of his eyes widen, only to snap back to narrow, quaking points. The former homunculus flexes his toes in his boots. He can feel the chill biting at the leather, and it's enough to bring him back.]
[And bring him back, it does. The smile on his face is softer somehow. Kinder. Like the smooth side of steel, hiding its edge. A hum vibrates deafly in his chest.] Your choice, huh? [Greed catches Michael's stare. He thinks he can almost see those gears of his turning. Those endless thoughts racing against themselves, trying to justify every action on a set of scales that don't exist.]
[The Sin makes a sound in his nose.] Tch, does it count. That's a stupid question. [He tries to level the flat part of his thumb under Michael's chin as he feels his wings retreat. It's like the curtain is finally being pulled aside. And if someone happens to catch what's behind it? If someone gets a little peek? Well, it's not like he's ever been shy before.]
[Still, he makes an effort to pivot a bit. Michael's been as giving as he always is. It seems only fair that he returns the gesture. Greed twists his back, exposing it towards the windows of the hotel. It may not be a lot of privacy, but it's something.] Getting lost in that head of yours again, aren't you? [He slurs and as he tilts his chin, he lets the tip of his nose brush against Michael's.] I could tell you the same thing I always do. What's right and what's wrong never mattered to me, Blue Eyes. What matters is whether this is what you really want.
[Given how close he is, the Sin lets his words touch along Michael's lips. He's barely there and everywhere all at once; his presence more similar to steam, venting from a cold, iron grate. Greed peels his head away and as he tries to feel out the Archangel's lower lip with his thumb, the tip of his tail whisks at the snow, collecting up a small, powdery dusting.]
And you can't really call me virtuous. Besides, if it really bothers you, you can always blame it on that little problem of yours - [A sneer teases on his face. Of course, he's not being serious. Even if this whole thing had started as a way of distracting Michael, this? Whatever this is? He wouldn't change it for the world.]
[Doesn't mean he can't be a shit about it.]
[Greed nips at the corner of Michael's mouth before finally pulling away.] - now, before you get any more crazy ideas, think it's about time you head back upstairs, hmn? [Lifting his hand, the Sin slowly tries to push the Archangel's hair back. The man is a stickler for presentation, after all.] No point staying out here.
[Starting from the pinkie and moving up, Greed splays out his fingers. He keeps the hooks of his claws curled closer to the inside of his palm, leaving their soft edges open to the touch.] If we were really fighting, I don't think we'd be having this conversation, Blues. [His eyes sink heavy at the rims of his sunglasses. There's something almost unreadable about his look: the stillness as he follows after Michael's hand, the slight twitch in his gaze as the slits of his eyes widen, only to snap back to narrow, quaking points. The former homunculus flexes his toes in his boots. He can feel the chill biting at the leather, and it's enough to bring him back.]
[And bring him back, it does. The smile on his face is softer somehow. Kinder. Like the smooth side of steel, hiding its edge. A hum vibrates deafly in his chest.] Your choice, huh? [Greed catches Michael's stare. He thinks he can almost see those gears of his turning. Those endless thoughts racing against themselves, trying to justify every action on a set of scales that don't exist.]
[The Sin makes a sound in his nose.] Tch, does it count. That's a stupid question. [He tries to level the flat part of his thumb under Michael's chin as he feels his wings retreat. It's like the curtain is finally being pulled aside. And if someone happens to catch what's behind it? If someone gets a little peek? Well, it's not like he's ever been shy before.]
[Still, he makes an effort to pivot a bit. Michael's been as giving as he always is. It seems only fair that he returns the gesture. Greed twists his back, exposing it towards the windows of the hotel. It may not be a lot of privacy, but it's something.] Getting lost in that head of yours again, aren't you? [He slurs and as he tilts his chin, he lets the tip of his nose brush against Michael's.] I could tell you the same thing I always do. What's right and what's wrong never mattered to me, Blue Eyes. What matters is whether this is what you really want.
[Given how close he is, the Sin lets his words touch along Michael's lips. He's barely there and everywhere all at once; his presence more similar to steam, venting from a cold, iron grate. Greed peels his head away and as he tries to feel out the Archangel's lower lip with his thumb, the tip of his tail whisks at the snow, collecting up a small, powdery dusting.]
And you can't really call me virtuous. Besides, if it really bothers you, you can always blame it on that little problem of yours - [A sneer teases on his face. Of course, he's not being serious. Even if this whole thing had started as a way of distracting Michael, this? Whatever this is? He wouldn't change it for the world.]
[Doesn't mean he can't be a shit about it.]
[Greed nips at the corner of Michael's mouth before finally pulling away.] - now, before you get any more crazy ideas, think it's about time you head back upstairs, hmn? [Lifting his hand, the Sin slowly tries to push the Archangel's hair back. The man is a stickler for presentation, after all.] No point staying out here.
[As soon as he hears Michael's voice, the Sin patiently plucks his sunglasses off his forehead. He uses his thumb to flip them shut, and the ear pieces click together with a tender tck of steel on steel. If Michael is sizing him up, he's all but eating the man alive. His eyes drift across him, running along the cut of his suit and the gold (rich, wealthy gold) accenting the otherwise pure white of it. And sure, his hair may be winning the battle, but something about it - it's so normal, isn't it? Something normal, despite what they are.]
[Greed slips his shades into the collar of his shirt, and the weight of them sags against the center of his chest.] I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't interested. As for a price, well. [He shrugs his shoulders, causing the stiffness of his jacket to crease at his neck.] We can get to that once you've got everything up and running. Just don't expect it to be cheap.
[He's halfway stepping forward when Michael comments on his suit. The back of his heel finds the floor, the point of his toe points sky high. And while he doesn't say anything at first, the rattle at the end of his tail does the talking for him. The spines clack together in a shushing motion; the sound of them as tinkling as a handful of pins, shaking in a jar.]
[Greed pockets his hands, twisting his head away as he slouches over his hips.] Tch. This thing? It was nothing. [It wasn't, but he'd sooner be strung up and crucified a second time than admit it.] Just something I found while I was out. [He finds his pace again and as his boots drag across the floor, the former homunculus slides his eyes to the side.] A handful? Oh ho, that's a first. Call me surprised again, Blue Eyes.
[But as soon as those scars come into view, his attention quickly shifts. His eyes immediately narrow in on them like a shot-true arrow, and that core of his tenses. It isn't the fact that Michael has them. Everyone he's ever met has their own, be them visible or otherwise. But the way he seems to rub at them, to hide them - a snarl tenses on his upper lip. While he won't show his tusks here, he can feel them begging for it. Begging for a chance to tear, to snap, at whatever (whoever) made them in the first place.]
[He shoves his tongue behind his lower lip, coaxing that simmer down, down, down. No, now's not the time. And given how tired Michael looks? He'll save it.]
[Instead, he urges up a grin, turning his focus on the mountain of paperwork neatly strung about his desk. No stone left unturned is right.] Seems like you've been busy. [The Sin wanders over to the desk, picking up a single sheet from a stack with his claws. He checks it once and flips it over before setting it back down crooked and at a slant.] And it sounds like you're preparing for something big. Worried our friends might be getting ideas?
[He drops his hand back down to his side. While the creatures running the place have been tame enough, there's always a possibility. October had been proof of that.]
[Greed settles his hip against the corner of the desk and as he crosses his ankles out in front of him, he lets a short laugh tickle at the back of his throat.] Wouldn't matter if you did. I haven't found a place I couldn't get into yet. [To demonstrate, he lifts of his arms and the points of his nails spring apart.] Besides, it wouldn't be as fun if I could just walk right in. Gotta make sure I keep up my end of the bargain.
[Living, he means. Not drowning in paperwork and shutting himself away, but living, seeing, having. And in exchange? He'll always try to keep things interesting.]
[The Sin lazily rolls his head back and as he shows off his throat, he lets his eyes drift over Michael again; the grin on his face, light and wicked.] No, you're not. But you've still got a few things to learn. [He gives a cheeky wink. He knows damn well the man could end him here and now. But oh, oh, oh.]
[How he does like to play with fire.]
Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get there, eventually.
[Greed slips his shades into the collar of his shirt, and the weight of them sags against the center of his chest.] I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't interested. As for a price, well. [He shrugs his shoulders, causing the stiffness of his jacket to crease at his neck.] We can get to that once you've got everything up and running. Just don't expect it to be cheap.
[He's halfway stepping forward when Michael comments on his suit. The back of his heel finds the floor, the point of his toe points sky high. And while he doesn't say anything at first, the rattle at the end of his tail does the talking for him. The spines clack together in a shushing motion; the sound of them as tinkling as a handful of pins, shaking in a jar.]
[Greed pockets his hands, twisting his head away as he slouches over his hips.] Tch. This thing? It was nothing. [It wasn't, but he'd sooner be strung up and crucified a second time than admit it.] Just something I found while I was out. [He finds his pace again and as his boots drag across the floor, the former homunculus slides his eyes to the side.] A handful? Oh ho, that's a first. Call me surprised again, Blue Eyes.
[But as soon as those scars come into view, his attention quickly shifts. His eyes immediately narrow in on them like a shot-true arrow, and that core of his tenses. It isn't the fact that Michael has them. Everyone he's ever met has their own, be them visible or otherwise. But the way he seems to rub at them, to hide them - a snarl tenses on his upper lip. While he won't show his tusks here, he can feel them begging for it. Begging for a chance to tear, to snap, at whatever (whoever) made them in the first place.]
[He shoves his tongue behind his lower lip, coaxing that simmer down, down, down. No, now's not the time. And given how tired Michael looks? He'll save it.]
[Instead, he urges up a grin, turning his focus on the mountain of paperwork neatly strung about his desk. No stone left unturned is right.] Seems like you've been busy. [The Sin wanders over to the desk, picking up a single sheet from a stack with his claws. He checks it once and flips it over before setting it back down crooked and at a slant.] And it sounds like you're preparing for something big. Worried our friends might be getting ideas?
[He drops his hand back down to his side. While the creatures running the place have been tame enough, there's always a possibility. October had been proof of that.]
[Greed settles his hip against the corner of the desk and as he crosses his ankles out in front of him, he lets a short laugh tickle at the back of his throat.] Wouldn't matter if you did. I haven't found a place I couldn't get into yet. [To demonstrate, he lifts of his arms and the points of his nails spring apart.] Besides, it wouldn't be as fun if I could just walk right in. Gotta make sure I keep up my end of the bargain.
[Living, he means. Not drowning in paperwork and shutting himself away, but living, seeing, having. And in exchange? He'll always try to keep things interesting.]
[The Sin lazily rolls his head back and as he shows off his throat, he lets his eyes drift over Michael again; the grin on his face, light and wicked.] No, you're not. But you've still got a few things to learn. [He gives a cheeky wink. He knows damn well the man could end him here and now. But oh, oh, oh.]
[How he does like to play with fire.]
Don't worry. I'm sure you'll get there, eventually.
[ The ice chunks catch his attention, causing him to look away just long enough to trace their path. His amusement kicks back in when he finds himself wondering why Greed didn’t bother to use this blatant distraction to pick up another handful of snow and dump it on him. ]
On that you definitely know better, I’m an angel of many words. Even when I fight I try to minimize damage and talk my so-called enemies down. I might have limited what I said, but I would still talk to you openly like this.
[ The expression gives him pause because he has always been able to read him, much to the displeasure of the former homunculus. But here and now? He finds himself at a loss, as want isn’t typically something he deals with, not in this manner. If the circumstances were different, he might have teased him for the soft expression. For now, he quietly relishes in it. ] Yes, my choice. I have you to thank for that.
[ A laugh, a mere exhale through his nose, is all he gets about his bad habit while he tilts his head into the touch. Oh, his movements are a little awkward but he has the spirit. When they are nose to nose, he closes his eyes. ]
You could say that but you know it won’t do any good, and it is what I want. You’ll have to excuse the execution because, for once, I’m flying blind here. It’s strange, being close enough to smell and taste someone. A show of intimacy that I never thought I would take any part in.
[ Annd there he is, right back to the Sin he knows he is. The indignation is splashed across his face. ]
Ideas, he says. [ He scoffs at the insinuation, his feathers bristling behind him. There are no ideas in his head at the moment, just a vast, endless void of static and dial-up tones. Michael reaches up to touch the corner of his mouth where his teeth nipped, looking vaguely startled. ]
Banishing me to my room like a child, you’re very audacious, aren’t you? As it just so happens, I was planning on going back after I returned the vest. You should go back before Miss Kamora starts wondering where her prize is. I did text her to let her know you would be picking it up.
[ He closes his eyes, letting out a soft sigh at the fingers through his hair. Leave it to Greed to be mindful of his appearance for him, as well as try to protect his virtue. ]
Thank you for the distraction but, if I worried about someone seeing us, I wouldn’t have lowered my wings. Remember that. [ His voice drops to a whisper, his expression softening into something that almost comes off as tender. The small amount of embarrassment he will feel later is a problem for future Michael. ]
Goodnight, Greed.
On that you definitely know better, I’m an angel of many words. Even when I fight I try to minimize damage and talk my so-called enemies down. I might have limited what I said, but I would still talk to you openly like this.
[ The expression gives him pause because he has always been able to read him, much to the displeasure of the former homunculus. But here and now? He finds himself at a loss, as want isn’t typically something he deals with, not in this manner. If the circumstances were different, he might have teased him for the soft expression. For now, he quietly relishes in it. ] Yes, my choice. I have you to thank for that.
[ A laugh, a mere exhale through his nose, is all he gets about his bad habit while he tilts his head into the touch. Oh, his movements are a little awkward but he has the spirit. When they are nose to nose, he closes his eyes. ]
You could say that but you know it won’t do any good, and it is what I want. You’ll have to excuse the execution because, for once, I’m flying blind here. It’s strange, being close enough to smell and taste someone. A show of intimacy that I never thought I would take any part in.
[ Annd there he is, right back to the Sin he knows he is. The indignation is splashed across his face. ]
Ideas, he says. [ He scoffs at the insinuation, his feathers bristling behind him. There are no ideas in his head at the moment, just a vast, endless void of static and dial-up tones. Michael reaches up to touch the corner of his mouth where his teeth nipped, looking vaguely startled. ]
Banishing me to my room like a child, you’re very audacious, aren’t you? As it just so happens, I was planning on going back after I returned the vest. You should go back before Miss Kamora starts wondering where her prize is. I did text her to let her know you would be picking it up.
[ He closes his eyes, letting out a soft sigh at the fingers through his hair. Leave it to Greed to be mindful of his appearance for him, as well as try to protect his virtue. ]
Thank you for the distraction but, if I worried about someone seeing us, I wouldn’t have lowered my wings. Remember that. [ His voice drops to a whisper, his expression softening into something that almost comes off as tender. The small amount of embarrassment he will feel later is a problem for future Michael. ]
Goodnight, Greed.
[ Michael catches himself staring a little too long and coughs in an effort to cover his tracks. This terrible, he is trying too hard to keep himself from doing something foolish when there is no need. He flat out told him that he doesn’t care which should be a blessing, but it only seems to compound his anxiety.
Finally: ] Touché.
Perish the thought, I know who I’m dealing with. Whatever your price, I will pay it. It’s worth every penny if it means everyone has a better understanding of how to defend themselves. Heaven or Hell, it doesn’t matter where they come from. If they are willing to learn, I am willing to teach them everything I know.
[ Putting on one of his more knowing smiles, he walks over and proceeds to circle Greed, reaching out to check the lines of the suit. His tail only makes those noises in certain instances. ] A suit that was practically tailor-made for you, plucked unknowingly off of a shelf. What a fortunate find. If you’re able to find more of these suits, you should grab them — even if I know you dislike the sleeves.
[ He shrugs his shoulders about the food, briefly pursing his lips. ] I remembered you were partial to the spicy noodles, so I purchased two of those. Everything else came highly recommended by a few other residents so, if you do dislike anything, I can’t take the full blame.
Busy? That’s certainly an understatement, I’ve written so much that I feel like my arm is going to fall off. I volunteered to help Lute when she was still here, so I’m expanding on her idea. I know some people won’t want to delve into serious training, so I want to offer self-defense and other options. They don’t have to be a novice.
[ There it is, the million dollar question. Again, he traces out the visible part of his scars. ] I’m worried that it’s been too quiet lately, I think we’re long overdue for another perilous ordeal. I’m not omniscient however, so I suppose I’m just basing all of this on a gut feeling. Do you think I’m overreacting? [ He eyes the slanted paper and tries to ignore it, though he eventually reaches over to straighten it out again. ]
One day someone is going to push you off of the balcony. You saying that makes me want to test my knowledge and see if I can disprove your claim. [ When Greed extends his arms, Michael’s hands jolt out to protect a stack of paperwork within tipping distance. He never comes close enough to disturb it but he does tap a finger against his chest regardless. ] If you knock over my paperwork, I will be the one throwing you off the balcony. That’s three days of work, I’ve filed the rest away.
Be that as it may— [ He reaches out to adjust the sunglasses when he notices they’ve gone crooked. ] —fun can quickly turn into something else. Be mindful of where you’re sneaking. [ This insufferable man, why does he like him again? He rolls his eyes and groans at the wink before putting his finger to his lips to shut him up.
He looks like he wants to say something but the doorbell rings, causing him to draw away and turn on a heel to start for the door. ] Don’t destroy anything while I’m gone, please. [ But it takes less than thirty seconds for Michael to call back to him, sounding more than a little anxious. ]
Greed? [ When he reappears, he has no less than four full bags of food clumsily hanging from his arms. Three meals per bag, he will never admit that he didn’t check the order twice or even see what he was paying for it. So, now they have more than half of the menu to choose from between appetizers, soup and entrees. ]
I really hope you’re hungry.
Finally: ] Touché.
Perish the thought, I know who I’m dealing with. Whatever your price, I will pay it. It’s worth every penny if it means everyone has a better understanding of how to defend themselves. Heaven or Hell, it doesn’t matter where they come from. If they are willing to learn, I am willing to teach them everything I know.
[ Putting on one of his more knowing smiles, he walks over and proceeds to circle Greed, reaching out to check the lines of the suit. His tail only makes those noises in certain instances. ] A suit that was practically tailor-made for you, plucked unknowingly off of a shelf. What a fortunate find. If you’re able to find more of these suits, you should grab them — even if I know you dislike the sleeves.
[ He shrugs his shoulders about the food, briefly pursing his lips. ] I remembered you were partial to the spicy noodles, so I purchased two of those. Everything else came highly recommended by a few other residents so, if you do dislike anything, I can’t take the full blame.
Busy? That’s certainly an understatement, I’ve written so much that I feel like my arm is going to fall off. I volunteered to help Lute when she was still here, so I’m expanding on her idea. I know some people won’t want to delve into serious training, so I want to offer self-defense and other options. They don’t have to be a novice.
[ There it is, the million dollar question. Again, he traces out the visible part of his scars. ] I’m worried that it’s been too quiet lately, I think we’re long overdue for another perilous ordeal. I’m not omniscient however, so I suppose I’m just basing all of this on a gut feeling. Do you think I’m overreacting? [ He eyes the slanted paper and tries to ignore it, though he eventually reaches over to straighten it out again. ]
One day someone is going to push you off of the balcony. You saying that makes me want to test my knowledge and see if I can disprove your claim. [ When Greed extends his arms, Michael’s hands jolt out to protect a stack of paperwork within tipping distance. He never comes close enough to disturb it but he does tap a finger against his chest regardless. ] If you knock over my paperwork, I will be the one throwing you off the balcony. That’s three days of work, I’ve filed the rest away.
Be that as it may— [ He reaches out to adjust the sunglasses when he notices they’ve gone crooked. ] —fun can quickly turn into something else. Be mindful of where you’re sneaking. [ This insufferable man, why does he like him again? He rolls his eyes and groans at the wink before putting his finger to his lips to shut him up.
He looks like he wants to say something but the doorbell rings, causing him to draw away and turn on a heel to start for the door. ] Don’t destroy anything while I’m gone, please. [ But it takes less than thirty seconds for Michael to call back to him, sounding more than a little anxious. ]
Greed? [ When he reappears, he has no less than four full bags of food clumsily hanging from his arms. Three meals per bag, he will never admit that he didn’t check the order twice or even see what he was paying for it. So, now they have more than half of the menu to choose from between appetizers, soup and entrees. ]
I really hope you’re hungry.
[A smile (thin as a razor and far more sly) festers on his face. It's not a knowing kind of look. No, it's more than that. It's a flirtatious look, a scandalous look. The Sin's eyelids droop and as his eyebrows sink together, he throws his chin to the side, showing off the shallow curve of his throat.]
[No, Michael Morningstar has been caught red-fucking-handed.]
[But he keeps his mouth shut. Greed fans his out his fingers to nick lightly at the edge of the desk, and he lulls his head up towards the ceiling.] Whatever the price? Don't be so sure about that, Blues. Could end up being more than you can afford. But sure, why not. I'll help you with that little project of - ah?
[The sensation of Michael touching his suit makes him visibly tense. The former homunculus scoffs and as a whistle of air squeezes between his teeth, he shoves the end of his tail under the lip of the desk, shutting it up before it can give away anything else. He flits his fingers by his side.] What can I say? Wasn't made just to be durable. And it's not the first time I've had to wear something like this. [He loosens his ankles, making the toe of one of his boots bounce freely in the air.] Don't think I'll start making a habit of it.
[Using two of his free hands, the Sin presses his thighs, flattening the wrinkles in his jeans. He catches something in his pocket and as his fingers feel out the distinct shape of a toothpick, he spreads his legs, notching his heels into the floor.] Old habit. Something I picked up from the little pissant prince - [Thoughtlessly, he trails off and his attention turns back to the papers again. He has no doubt in his mind he spent hours making those notes. Hours, days, weeks. He pulls the toothpick out of his pocket.]
[Old habits, after all.]
[Greed slips the pick between his teeth and pauses.] Lute? [Has he heard the name before? Maybe. But he can't for the life of him put a face to it. He thinks he remembers it coming up once. Around the time Michael made his announcement about Lucifer, and that, well. He'd been a little busy then, hadn't he?]
[The Sin hums, twirling the toothpick with his tongue.] You're looking at it all wrong. You can't learn about fighting from a book. Sure, it can tell you what to do and where to hit, but you can't beat actual experience. [A sound shifts underneath his suit. It's light, barely there; the tune of it more similar to the scales of a snake, rubbing against one another. A sliver of black scratches up his jaw.]
Ehh, wouldn't say you're overreacting. Nothing wrong with going with your gut. [Greed drops his eyes, following Michael as he maps out his scars. No, instinct - it has its uses. It's one of the reasons he had a contingency plan of his own. However, the sewers had failed, and any sort of preparation became useless as soon as his came along and sniffed him out.]
[Part of the toothpick lets out a soft crck. Greed pulls it out of his mouth and slides it behind his ear.] Ha - ! They could try, but you know as well as I do that it wouldn't matter. [As soon as Michael practically dives for the pile of papers, the former homunculus mockingly throws up all four of his hands.] All right, all right. You've made your point, Blue Eyes. Though, if you did, I think your neighbors might start getting some pretty wild ideas, hmn?
[A man being tossed from a ten-story-plus balcony, in a suit on top of it all, leaves a lot of unanswered questions. And where there's questions, there's rumors. Rumors and stories spun up as people filled in the gaps.]
[Greed's about to peel himself off the desk, but then Michael's got his finger to his lips and oh. Oh, he can't help himself. His mouth widens and as his claws nip tiny pinpricks in the wood, he nudges his head forward.] Depends on your definition of fun. [He's about to finish that sentence (no doubt with something just as crude) when the doorbell rings. The Sin shrugs his shoulders, pushing himself up and onto his heels.]
Hmn? [At first, he trails after Michael, steady and slow. However, once he hears the slight lilt to his voice, he gradually picks up the pace; the heavy drum of his boots plunking against the floor. It isn't just a little dinner the Archangel's picked up, no. From the looks of it, he's ordered the whole fucking restaurant.]
[Greed barks a laugh into his chest as he crosses the room.] Y'know, the name's Greed, Feathers. Not Gluttony. [What personal space they may have had, he quickly eats it up. With a slide of his leg, with his arms outstretched, and if he just so happens to be practically chest-to-chest with the man? He doesn't seem to notice.]
Though, knowing you, you'd probably have a soft spot for him. Guy couldn't do anything without the rest. [He collects the bags in his hands, twisting the plastic around his claws.]
[No, Michael Morningstar has been caught red-fucking-handed.]
[But he keeps his mouth shut. Greed fans his out his fingers to nick lightly at the edge of the desk, and he lulls his head up towards the ceiling.] Whatever the price? Don't be so sure about that, Blues. Could end up being more than you can afford. But sure, why not. I'll help you with that little project of - ah?
[The sensation of Michael touching his suit makes him visibly tense. The former homunculus scoffs and as a whistle of air squeezes between his teeth, he shoves the end of his tail under the lip of the desk, shutting it up before it can give away anything else. He flits his fingers by his side.] What can I say? Wasn't made just to be durable. And it's not the first time I've had to wear something like this. [He loosens his ankles, making the toe of one of his boots bounce freely in the air.] Don't think I'll start making a habit of it.
[Using two of his free hands, the Sin presses his thighs, flattening the wrinkles in his jeans. He catches something in his pocket and as his fingers feel out the distinct shape of a toothpick, he spreads his legs, notching his heels into the floor.] Old habit. Something I picked up from the little pissant prince - [Thoughtlessly, he trails off and his attention turns back to the papers again. He has no doubt in his mind he spent hours making those notes. Hours, days, weeks. He pulls the toothpick out of his pocket.]
[Old habits, after all.]
[Greed slips the pick between his teeth and pauses.] Lute? [Has he heard the name before? Maybe. But he can't for the life of him put a face to it. He thinks he remembers it coming up once. Around the time Michael made his announcement about Lucifer, and that, well. He'd been a little busy then, hadn't he?]
[The Sin hums, twirling the toothpick with his tongue.] You're looking at it all wrong. You can't learn about fighting from a book. Sure, it can tell you what to do and where to hit, but you can't beat actual experience. [A sound shifts underneath his suit. It's light, barely there; the tune of it more similar to the scales of a snake, rubbing against one another. A sliver of black scratches up his jaw.]
Ehh, wouldn't say you're overreacting. Nothing wrong with going with your gut. [Greed drops his eyes, following Michael as he maps out his scars. No, instinct - it has its uses. It's one of the reasons he had a contingency plan of his own. However, the sewers had failed, and any sort of preparation became useless as soon as his came along and sniffed him out.]
[Part of the toothpick lets out a soft crck. Greed pulls it out of his mouth and slides it behind his ear.] Ha - ! They could try, but you know as well as I do that it wouldn't matter. [As soon as Michael practically dives for the pile of papers, the former homunculus mockingly throws up all four of his hands.] All right, all right. You've made your point, Blue Eyes. Though, if you did, I think your neighbors might start getting some pretty wild ideas, hmn?
[A man being tossed from a ten-story-plus balcony, in a suit on top of it all, leaves a lot of unanswered questions. And where there's questions, there's rumors. Rumors and stories spun up as people filled in the gaps.]
[Greed's about to peel himself off the desk, but then Michael's got his finger to his lips and oh. Oh, he can't help himself. His mouth widens and as his claws nip tiny pinpricks in the wood, he nudges his head forward.] Depends on your definition of fun. [He's about to finish that sentence (no doubt with something just as crude) when the doorbell rings. The Sin shrugs his shoulders, pushing himself up and onto his heels.]
Hmn? [At first, he trails after Michael, steady and slow. However, once he hears the slight lilt to his voice, he gradually picks up the pace; the heavy drum of his boots plunking against the floor. It isn't just a little dinner the Archangel's picked up, no. From the looks of it, he's ordered the whole fucking restaurant.]
[Greed barks a laugh into his chest as he crosses the room.] Y'know, the name's Greed, Feathers. Not Gluttony. [What personal space they may have had, he quickly eats it up. With a slide of his leg, with his arms outstretched, and if he just so happens to be practically chest-to-chest with the man? He doesn't seem to notice.]
Though, knowing you, you'd probably have a soft spot for him. Guy couldn't do anything without the rest. [He collects the bags in his hands, twisting the plastic around his claws.]
[ Greed will find a couple of messages waiting for him on his phone. The first is an image depicting one Mr. Beetled Juice taking a photo of himself from behind thanks to being able to contort his body in all kinds of horrible ways. He's wearing some tight leather pants. The second is:]
hey boss do these make my ass look big?
hey boss do these make my ass look big?
Edited 2025-01-30 01:28 (UTC)
[As soon as he gets the message, the Sin lifts his sunglasses, pushing his longer-than-usual hair up and out of his face. He whistles, impressed. Of course, leave it to Beetle to always bring something surprising.]
intersting look showman. trying something new ?
if youre gunna do that try bringing up the waist a bit
intersting look showman. trying something new ?
if youre gunna do that try bringing up the waist a bit
jus a sec
[ A second photo follows. Beetlejuice has followed Greed's advice, though now he's taking a photo using the mirror. Where did his jacket and shirt go? MYSTERY!!! He's still wearing his tie though. He can be seen with his tongue in his teeth, grinning down at his phone. ]
hows this?
[ A second photo follows. Beetlejuice has followed Greed's advice, though now he's taking a photo using the mirror. Where did his jacket and shirt go? MYSTERY!!! He's still wearing his tie though. He can be seen with his tongue in his teeth, grinning down at his phone. ]
hows this?
hold that thought
[No one said he was good at technology. But eventually, he manages to send a photo. It's not the best by any means. The shot's been taken at an angle, showing off the lip of his leather pants and half his torso. He's got his thumb hooked into the waist, leaving his fingers spread along his hip.]
not sure if thatworked or not
[No one said he was good at technology. But eventually, he manages to send a photo. It's not the best by any means. The shot's been taken at an angle, showing off the lip of his leather pants and half his torso. He's got his thumb hooked into the waist, leaving his fingers spread along his hip.]
not sure if thatworked or not
yup!
ahh i see
[ A third photo arrives. Beetlejuice is mimicking Greed's composition to a T, though he is not as svelte as his boss, so the lip of his pants is somewhat eclipsed by a hairy stomach. ]
ahh i see
[ A third photo arrives. Beetlejuice is mimicking Greed's composition to a T, though he is not as svelte as his boss, so the lip of his pants is somewhat eclipsed by a hairy stomach. ]
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