"Welcome to HT&T answering service. Unfortunately, the asshole you're trying to reach hasn't set up shit. Leave your name (or don't), your number, and whatever the Hell (ha ha!) message you want. We don't get paid enough for this."
Beep.
➥ Text | ➥ Message | ➥ Video | ➥ Action | ➥ Redial
[Speak of the devil and you'll get him: that's how the phrase goes, doesn't it?]
[After finishing up whatever the hell he'd been up to, Greed's at the door to Velvet's hotel room about half an hour after his last text. There's cologne on his skin (from a fresh shower), a faint lick of exhaust and smoke in the fur of his vest, and a thin smile on his face. Velvet is demanding on any day that ends in Y, but it's never been about something quite like this.]
[Maybe, she's just taking his own advice. Perhaps, she's merely cutting the foreplay. Either way, he's about to find out, whatever the reason.]
[The former homunculus plants his toe at the lip of the door. And with two, metallic taps, he knocks.]
[The first text doesn't receive very much of a wordy answer. Instead there's just a picture taken at a close angle, of pristine white fur and tumbles of green curls and a glimpse of a pretty little smile.]
ill teach you to take good ones
[Before the door opens there is the distinct sound from inside the room of aluminum striking aluminum in the form of a can being thrown against its brethren.
When Velvet opens the door it is with all that green curly hair cascading down her shoulders, a bow tied around her chest, and a satiny, drapey nightgown. She leans against the doorway as if to look all cool and collected, but upon seeing Greed all cleaned up and smelling wonderful, Velvet perks up with an interest almost rivaling Veneer's vibrance— but only almost.]
Well, look at you!
Ugh, I knew you wouldn't let me down!
[She reaches out to fluff the fur on his vest, minky little purrs bubbling up from her chest. He is perfect, perfect, just as wonderful as she expects him to be, and she knows there's no reason to doubt his perception of her.]
[And that's fine. That's fine, because here is Velvet (his first, the one who said yes, the princess of his little den of thieves and outcasts) dressed in a little slip with a glint in her eye, and ah. How can he pay attention to a phone when he's got the real thing right in front of him?]
[Greed tilts his head to the side, giving her more access to the fur around his collar.] What, did you really doubt me? I always like to leave an impression, Princess. [His voice is smooth like butter; like a chaser to whiskey, and it all goes down slick and clean.] I'm almost hurt.
[He's not, not really, and that's clear by the absolute bastard of an expression on his face. The former homunculus pushes forward to try to guide her backwards into the hotel room.] But I have to wonder, what's this all about, hmn? Not that I'm gunna say no - [He lets the rest of the sentence hang on the forks of his tongue.] - but you seemed pretty short with me. Something up?
[Is he going to walk right in and make himself at home? Absolutely. He's Greed: the world's his simply by name.]
[But before he does, he shoves a little box into her hand. It's plain and white with what appears to be someone's half-assed attempt of a ribbon tied loosely around the lid.]
[If she opens it, what she'll find is a tiara. And if it's stolen? Well.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
something happen ?
yeah sure but youre gunna have to give me a little bit of a hint here
no subject
and also learn how to use a printer
1/2
yeah yeah its on the list. be there in a sec
2/2 ➥ Action
[After finishing up whatever the hell he'd been up to, Greed's at the door to Velvet's hotel room about half an hour after his last text. There's cologne on his skin (from a fresh shower), a faint lick of exhaust and smoke in the fur of his vest, and a thin smile on his face. Velvet is demanding on any day that ends in Y, but it's never been about something quite like this.]
[Maybe, she's just taking his own advice. Perhaps, she's merely cutting the foreplay. Either way, he's about to find out, whatever the reason.]
[The former homunculus plants his toe at the lip of the door. And with two, metallic taps, he knocks.]
[Dnk. Dnk.]
no subject
ill teach you to take good ones
[Before the door opens there is the distinct sound from inside the room of aluminum striking aluminum in the form of a can being thrown against its brethren.
When Velvet opens the door it is with all that green curly hair cascading down her shoulders, a bow tied around her chest, and a satiny, drapey nightgown. She leans against the doorway as if to look all cool and collected, but upon seeing Greed all cleaned up and smelling wonderful, Velvet perks up with an interest almost rivaling Veneer's vibrance— but only almost.]
Well, look at you!
Ugh, I knew you wouldn't let me down!
[She reaches out to fluff the fur on his vest, minky little purrs bubbling up from her chest. He is perfect, perfect, just as wonderful as she expects him to be, and she knows there's no reason to doubt his perception of her.]
no subject
[And that's fine. That's fine, because here is Velvet (his first, the one who said yes, the princess of his little den of thieves and outcasts) dressed in a little slip with a glint in her eye, and ah. How can he pay attention to a phone when he's got the real thing right in front of him?]
[Greed tilts his head to the side, giving her more access to the fur around his collar.] What, did you really doubt me? I always like to leave an impression, Princess. [His voice is smooth like butter; like a chaser to whiskey, and it all goes down slick and clean.] I'm almost hurt.
[He's not, not really, and that's clear by the absolute bastard of an expression on his face. The former homunculus pushes forward to try to guide her backwards into the hotel room.] But I have to wonder, what's this all about, hmn? Not that I'm gunna say no - [He lets the rest of the sentence hang on the forks of his tongue.] - but you seemed pretty short with me. Something up?
[Is he going to walk right in and make himself at home? Absolutely. He's Greed: the world's his simply by name.]
[But before he does, he shoves a little box into her hand. It's plain and white with what appears to be someone's half-assed attempt of a ribbon tied loosely around the lid.]
[If she opens it, what she'll find is a tiara. And if it's stolen? Well.]
[He's not about to tell, is he?]