"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.
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[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.]
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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?]