[Greed takes a seat on the leather sofa in the corner, swinging one of his legs over the other to let his foot hang off the cliff of his knee. He gestures to another couch nearby; the cigarette in his hand burning away the awkward seconds.] Sit. [He says. It isn't so much an order, but an ordered suggestion. He can't, won't, stop her if she decides to ditch him right then and there.]
[And she still very well could. But part of him, a small part he tries to ignore, hopes that it won't come to that.]
[The Sin brings his hand to his face, smothering his mouth with his fingers as he takes in the nicotine as hard as he can; the scorch of it, a mild distraction.] Were you? Did he promise you everything with all that fucking sweet talk? You're not that dense, Velvet. [It sounds harsher than he means, but it's honest.] I know you're going to come up with something, but that something may come a little too late. I want you to be ready for it. [He throws his elbow over the arm of the couch to ash his cigarette to the floor.]
[He's seen this story a thousand times over, and he knows how it ends. There's no fairy-tale singalong to close it out, no knight to come rescue the damsel from the dragon. Far from it. Rather, it'll be told in bruises that never quite get a chance to heal, lips that are always and forever cracked down the middle, tears cried lonely in the middle of the night. It's not his world, yet the rules haven't changed.]
[And sometimes he knows that, even without him or his siblings, the mortal lot can make their own monsters.]
[For a second, the Sin forgets about his smoke.] I had a plan once too, Velvet. But that didn't matter. Eventually, things caught up with me, too. [His lips force themselves into a smile, albeit small in comparison to his usual.] It took nearly 100 years, but it still caught up with me. What makes you think you'll be an exception?
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[And she still very well could. But part of him, a small part he tries to ignore, hopes that it won't come to that.]
[The Sin brings his hand to his face, smothering his mouth with his fingers as he takes in the nicotine as hard as he can; the scorch of it, a mild distraction.] Were you? Did he promise you everything with all that fucking sweet talk? You're not that dense, Velvet. [It sounds harsher than he means, but it's honest.] I know you're going to come up with something, but that something may come a little too late. I want you to be ready for it. [He throws his elbow over the arm of the couch to ash his cigarette to the floor.]
[He's seen this story a thousand times over, and he knows how it ends. There's no fairy-tale singalong to close it out, no knight to come rescue the damsel from the dragon. Far from it. Rather, it'll be told in bruises that never quite get a chance to heal, lips that are always and forever cracked down the middle, tears cried lonely in the middle of the night. It's not his world, yet the rules haven't changed.]
[And sometimes he knows that, even without him or his siblings, the mortal lot can make their own monsters.]
[For a second, the Sin forgets about his smoke.] I had a plan once too, Velvet. But that didn't matter. Eventually, things caught up with me, too. [His lips force themselves into a smile, albeit small in comparison to his usual.] It took nearly 100 years, but it still caught up with me. What makes you think you'll be an exception?