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[For just a moment, Velvet thinks— oh no, she's done the wrong thing. That's a stupid question, don't you think? But then— no, no, once again she is being invited into Greed's space.
Velvet rolls her eyes, flicks her hands through her hair and lifts her nose, huffing as she strides past him, like some kind of spoiled cat. Her tail quivers almost like a cat's, too, like that expression of excitement but somehow more snakelike, more rubbery, more unreal. She turns to face him and walk backward— head first, then torso, then legs— so that she can see him while she talks.
Maybe a diva wouldn't want to spend the night in some seedy bar talking to the first person she's found interesting in a while. But the thing about playing dress-up is that you get to choose what you do in the role and Velvet has already decided that being a Diva means getting what she wants even if it doesn't seem to suit the role.]
You're such a flirt. I've slept on couches, you know.
But, come to think of it, I've never slept on some cool old scary man...
[A tap-tap-tap of her lip before Velvet gives a coy smile.]
[He's always amazed how quickly she can pick herself back up, both mentally and physically. Her whole everything seems made for it. Every set back, a minor one. Every hurdle, an easy jump. And just like rubber, she'll always bounce back.]
[Greed slinks in her wake and as he finds himself again (with that casual slouch that's all him, with that stride that takes everything with each solid clack of his boots), his lips crack open.] Oh. And now you're talking shit. I see, I see. [He says it with a humor that's obvious. Something only good friends could understand. Something only creatures, devils, like the two of them could possibly grasp. It comes with knowing someone, even if that knowing doesn't include all the fine details.]
[He doesn't care what Velvet's done, only what she will do. And she's proven herself tenfold tonight.]
[The former homunculus lifts his chin, showing off his throat as a dare.] An achievement? Is that what we're calling this now? Cheeky mink. [He laughs, and gone is that chill from before. Like a hot, summer breeze, his demeanor chases away the cold with just a smile. A smile that bites, that guarantees, the world on a dinner plate.]
[Greed waves his hand.] Yeah, yeah. C'mon, Princess Pissant. Let's get you your beauty rest.
[She is energized by his response, despite the fatigue. This is how she always wants Greed to look at her, like she's a brilliant shining star, like he can see the world he wants to own in her eyes. Like she is desired by him, and like she will never see his disinterest again.
She'll make sure she doesn't.]
I do like the sound of that, though. 'Princess' is a good word.
You should say it more often~
[Teasing comes easy. Playing along with that humor, like the both of them are mean to each other, like that meanness can possibly cover up how much and how much and how deep Greed has wound his way into Velvet's vinyl heart.]
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no subject
Velvet rolls her eyes, flicks her hands through her hair and lifts her nose, huffing as she strides past him, like some kind of spoiled cat. Her tail quivers almost like a cat's, too, like that expression of excitement but somehow more snakelike, more rubbery, more unreal. She turns to face him and walk backward— head first, then torso, then legs— so that she can see him while she talks.
Maybe a diva wouldn't want to spend the night in some seedy bar talking to the first person she's found interesting in a while. But the thing about playing dress-up is that you get to choose what you do in the role and Velvet has already decided that being a Diva means getting what she wants even if it doesn't seem to suit the role.]
You're such a flirt. I've slept on couches, you know.
But, come to think of it, I've never slept on some cool old scary man...
[A tap-tap-tap of her lip before Velvet gives a coy smile.]
That's some kind of achievement, isn't it?
[Maybe it's one she'll hold over Veneer's head.
Or maybe it's one she'll treasure for herself.]
no subject
[Greed slinks in her wake and as he finds himself again (with that casual slouch that's all him, with that stride that takes everything with each solid clack of his boots), his lips crack open.] Oh. And now you're talking shit. I see, I see. [He says it with a humor that's obvious. Something only good friends could understand. Something only creatures, devils, like the two of them could possibly grasp. It comes with knowing someone, even if that knowing doesn't include all the fine details.]
[He doesn't care what Velvet's done, only what she will do. And she's proven herself tenfold tonight.]
[The former homunculus lifts his chin, showing off his throat as a dare.] An achievement? Is that what we're calling this now? Cheeky mink. [He laughs, and gone is that chill from before. Like a hot, summer breeze, his demeanor chases away the cold with just a smile. A smile that bites, that guarantees, the world on a dinner plate.]
[Greed waves his hand.] Yeah, yeah. C'mon, Princess Pissant. Let's get you your beauty rest.
no subject
I'm an achiever, Greed.
I achieve.
[She is energized by his response, despite the fatigue. This is how she always wants Greed to look at her, like she's a brilliant shining star, like he can see the world he wants to own in her eyes. Like she is desired by him, and like she will never see his disinterest again.
She'll make sure she doesn't.]
I do like the sound of that, though. 'Princess' is a good word.
You should say it more often~
[Teasing comes easy. Playing along with that humor, like the both of them are mean to each other, like that meanness can possibly cover up how much and how much and how deep Greed has wound his way into Velvet's vinyl heart.]