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[ Maurice is taking gulps of his cocktail rather than sips. It's going fast as he listens to Greed purr and make his offer. He licks his lips and looks up at the big cat man.]
[ There's something about staring at his reflection in Greed's glasses. Greed is both a presence that fills a room and a mirror leaving Maurice with only himself. What did he want? The yawning speckled void waits for his answer, luxuriating in its vastness. What did he want? ]
[ People don't usually ask Maurice what he wants. The collar's influence bid him speak.]
I want respect.
[ Maurice snaps his teeth closed and instantly he looks stricken, like he's scandalized that he could dare to ask for something so large. Like, who the fuck is HE? ]
[Maurice drinks, and he waits. For an answer, for a suggestion, for a reaction of any sort. And all the while, he's eerily still; like a viper tasting the air, searching for a flicker of something (anything) to pass on by. Because it is true, isn't it? The age-old phrase about devils and how it's always better to go with the one that's familiar.]
[Greed's eyebrows drift up his forehead, silent yet focused all the same. He plucks his claw off the glass, making it shiver out one, last, finalizing note. Shrrr.] Ha - ! Now see, that wasn't so hard, was it? [The Sin's mouth knowingly shrinks and as he plucks up the glass, he shuffles it underneath the lip of the bar. A task to take handle later, no doubt.] But that's interesting. What makes you think you aren't respected, Maurice? From everything you've told me, you sound like a pretty interesting guy. You haven't been running into any trouble here, have you? Because if you are - [He swipes his tongue behind the cuts of his teeth.] - well, you can just tell them they can come talk to me, hmn?
[Tilting his head, he gives off a glimpse of his throat and all the jewels and gems strung about it catch like pennies in the limelight.] Ah, but before we get to that, suppose I owe you one in return, don't I? [He taps the top of the bar with his nail, leaving behind a fine prick in the wood.]
So, go ahead. You get one ask. Then, we can get to this respect of yours.
Well...the folks back home talk to me like I'm dumb. Probably 'cause I'm fat and don't have a good job and didn't finish college. It's like they either think I'm stupid or feel sorry for me and I can't...I can't stand it! Horas was supposed to teach me how t'be a vampire (I was a vampire) but he kept just...I dunno, fucking around. And then when we almost get caught by hunters they blame ME! And here, the angels all give me these looks...I ain't done nothin' to them! All I do is--don't tell nobody this--go to the library and read freakin' plays! If they want me to be a problem just so they can feel right, I'll BE a problem!
[ The more he speaks, the more he begins to get just a little heated. Maurice doesn't get heated over much. ]
And my boss is always tryin' to scare me and, I mean, it works, but I wish he wouldn't do that. I got enough to deal with outside of work!
[ His tail is lashing so hard behind him that he is tipping over chairs. ]
Okay--I want another drink. Make it stronger. Uh, please.
[A slight flick of movement hints behind his sunglasses as he listens to Maurice tell his story. And while it isn't exactly a familiar one, it is similar. Not to his, but to others he's known before. The world (any world, really) is kind to no one, and given his line of business, he's heard it all. From the once-star lounge singers to washed-up military men who had nothing left to give, the theme is always the same: life isn't always fair, and for those that don't (can't) live a normal one? Cruelty is a commodity in spades.]
[Greed pinches Maurice's drink by the brim, dragging it away.] There's always going to be those. The self-righteous types. [He starts in, his voice as smooth as a velvet chaser.] And when something doesn't go their way? They look for someone else to blame. That's the thing with people like that. They tend to forget what others are worth.
[At the last bit, his teeth snap together; a light tck. The Sin shoves the glass underneath the counter and as he stretches his back, the fur along his neck slowly rises; its movement more similar to the pull of lifting static. He lets the side of his head sag near his shoulder.] Sounds like it's more their problem than yours, hmn? [The question tickles on his tongue, making the split of it flutter behind his teeth.] Our friends up above have the whole thing wrong. What's good, what's bad. It's never mattered to me.
As for that other thing - [Setting down a fresh glass with one hand, the former homunculus snags an orange with the other. He eases the edge of his thumb against the skin and with a sharp jerk of the wrist, he begins to peel it.] - everyone's got their secrets. We'll just leave it at that.
[Ah, but there's that heat. That simmering, bubbling heat and he knows it, doesn't he? That fine line between frustration and anger that can so easily boil over to wrath. Greed sinks his claw into the orange and as its skin bursts, he levels it over the shaker.] Careful there. As much as I don't blame you, think about it, huh? Would do you no good to make things messier than they have to be. But -
[He swipes his claw and the orange peel rolls off in a single curl.] - might be time to remind some of 'em that this isn't their afterlife, and their rules don't exactly apply. [The Sin pours in some liquor, capping the mix with a delicate tnk of steel on steel. He gives it a slight swirl and the ice inside rolls like rocks in a tumbler.] Ah, but I'm getting a little ahead of myself, aren't I? You still haven't gotten your ask.
[The drink he pours out this time is a heavier one. A simple mix of half vodka, half orange juice with a lick of bitters for good measure. Greed holds the peel over a candle nearby, turning the edges of it to a slight char. He shoves a toothpick through it before setting it on the rim of the glass. Then, with a push, he sends it over to Maurice.]
[ Living by your own rules sounds so cool...but also kind of lonely. He wonders if this cool cat ever feels lonely. He makes it look so easy. ]
I thought the extra drink was my ask...
[ He grabs his drink and takes a moment to appreciate the unique smell before taking a sip. Oh! That's different! He likes it a little more than the Widow actually. ]
Uhmmm...let's see.
[ His usual electric nerves that run through him when In A Social Situation have started to quiet their incessant buzzing. His shoulders un-hunch and he rolls his head from one side to the other as if making sure to coat all surfaces of his brain with the alcohol.]
[It's rare to see someone at his bar so completely opposite his usual. Not that Maurice is entirely out of sorts here. But the clientele he's come to expect have always been a bit more rough around the edges, and an ask (any at all) tends to come with a little more fine print.]
[Which is why, maybe, Greed's smile softens a bit. He lifts his shoulders with a lazy shrug before stretching himself over the bar just enough to make his hips knock along the other side of the counter. The collar may be commanding him to do it, but even so. This? This is simple enough.]
[Maurice really is another one of the good ones, isn't he?]
[The Sin coaxes his head to the side, offering up his ear.] Knock yourself out. [He purrs and his tail sways behind him.] Y'know, you're not a bad guy, 'Rice. If you ever find those other jobs of yours aren't working out, why don't you give me a call? This place gets busy enough, and I'm sure we could find something worth your time.
[On cue, he pulls out a napkin and a pen to blindly scribble down a few numbers before pushing it over to Maurice; his head, all the while, held out and waiting for a well-deserved scritch.]
[ 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?
[All the while, the Sin tilts into the touch. It isn't something intimate (least not the kind he's familiar with), but the jaguar part of him: it likes it. The feeling of Maurice's nails on his scalp, the sensation of his fingers burying themselves deep in his fur. Greed lets a deep, barrel-bottom chuff flare in his nose; the pitch of it echoing like a bass, thrumming in his chest.]
[When Maurice pulls away, the former homunculus rolls his head, causing one or two of his bones to crack.] Hmn? [He shakes himself out of his momentary stupor as he slowly straightens his back.]
Yeah, like a job. [He turns up the corner of his lip.] And it wouldn't be much. Mostly making sure we have enough stock when we open. That, and taking care of the occasional drop off. [Greed rubs the back of his neck. It may not have been his intent, but the way Maurice had stroked him: it leaves the bristles of his coat standing on end. The look of them more similar to the aftermath of a well-placed, statically charged balloon.]
[He flattens the fur under his palm, gliding it down smooth and slick.] Think about it. [The Sin taps the napkin twice with the tip of his nail. Tck, tck.] Doesn't have to be now. But consider it, would ya?
Got some things to do, but in the meantime, feel free to stick around. [The former homunculus gradually pulls away from the counter. Being as tall as he is now, he shuffles a bit on the balls of his feet, narrowly avoiding the prep station behind him the process. Eventually though (and with a little more effort than usual), he makes his way down the line of the bar. And with one hand raised high, the Sin flicks his wrist; his sendoff, quick and casual.]
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no subject
[ There's something about staring at his reflection in Greed's glasses. Greed is both a presence that fills a room and a mirror leaving Maurice with only himself. What did he want? The yawning speckled void waits for his answer, luxuriating in its vastness. What did he want? ]
[ People don't usually ask Maurice what he wants. The collar's influence bid him speak.]
I want respect.
[ Maurice snaps his teeth closed and instantly he looks stricken, like he's scandalized that he could dare to ask for something so large. Like, who the fuck is HE? ]
no subject
[Greed's eyebrows drift up his forehead, silent yet focused all the same. He plucks his claw off the glass, making it shiver out one, last, finalizing note. Shrrr.] Ha - ! Now see, that wasn't so hard, was it? [The Sin's mouth knowingly shrinks and as he plucks up the glass, he shuffles it underneath the lip of the bar. A task to take handle later, no doubt.] But that's interesting. What makes you think you aren't respected, Maurice? From everything you've told me, you sound like a pretty interesting guy. You haven't been running into any trouble here, have you? Because if you are - [He swipes his tongue behind the cuts of his teeth.] - well, you can just tell them they can come talk to me, hmn?
[Tilting his head, he gives off a glimpse of his throat and all the jewels and gems strung about it catch like pennies in the limelight.] Ah, but before we get to that, suppose I owe you one in return, don't I? [He taps the top of the bar with his nail, leaving behind a fine prick in the wood.]
So, go ahead. You get one ask. Then, we can get to this respect of yours.
no subject
Well...the folks back home talk to me like I'm dumb. Probably 'cause I'm fat and don't have a good job and didn't finish college. It's like they either think I'm stupid or feel sorry for me and I can't...I can't stand it! Horas was supposed to teach me how t'be a vampire (I was a vampire) but he kept just...I dunno, fucking around. And then when we almost get caught by hunters they blame ME! And here, the angels all give me these looks...I ain't done nothin' to them! All I do is--don't tell nobody this--go to the library and read freakin' plays! If they want me to be a problem just so they can feel right, I'll BE a problem!
[ The more he speaks, the more he begins to get just a little heated. Maurice doesn't get heated over much. ]
And my boss is always tryin' to scare me and, I mean, it works, but I wish he wouldn't do that. I got enough to deal with outside of work!
[ His tail is lashing so hard behind him that he is tipping over chairs. ]
Okay--I want another drink. Make it stronger. Uh, please.
no subject
[Greed pinches Maurice's drink by the brim, dragging it away.] There's always going to be those. The self-righteous types. [He starts in, his voice as smooth as a velvet chaser.] And when something doesn't go their way? They look for someone else to blame. That's the thing with people like that. They tend to forget what others are worth.
[At the last bit, his teeth snap together; a light tck. The Sin shoves the glass underneath the counter and as he stretches his back, the fur along his neck slowly rises; its movement more similar to the pull of lifting static. He lets the side of his head sag near his shoulder.] Sounds like it's more their problem than yours, hmn? [The question tickles on his tongue, making the split of it flutter behind his teeth.] Our friends up above have the whole thing wrong. What's good, what's bad. It's never mattered to me.
As for that other thing - [Setting down a fresh glass with one hand, the former homunculus snags an orange with the other. He eases the edge of his thumb against the skin and with a sharp jerk of the wrist, he begins to peel it.] - everyone's got their secrets. We'll just leave it at that.
[Ah, but there's that heat. That simmering, bubbling heat and he knows it, doesn't he? That fine line between frustration and anger that can so easily boil over to wrath. Greed sinks his claw into the orange and as its skin bursts, he levels it over the shaker.] Careful there. As much as I don't blame you, think about it, huh? Would do you no good to make things messier than they have to be. But -
[He swipes his claw and the orange peel rolls off in a single curl.] - might be time to remind some of 'em that this isn't their afterlife, and their rules don't exactly apply. [The Sin pours in some liquor, capping the mix with a delicate tnk of steel on steel. He gives it a slight swirl and the ice inside rolls like rocks in a tumbler.] Ah, but I'm getting a little ahead of myself, aren't I? You still haven't gotten your ask.
[The drink he pours out this time is a heavier one. A simple mix of half vodka, half orange juice with a lick of bitters for good measure. Greed holds the peel over a candle nearby, turning the edges of it to a slight char. He shoves a toothpick through it before setting it on the rim of the glass. Then, with a push, he sends it over to Maurice.]
no subject
I thought the extra drink was my ask...
[ He grabs his drink and takes a moment to appreciate the unique smell before taking a sip. Oh! That's different! He likes it a little more than the Widow actually. ]
Uhmmm...let's see.
[ His usual electric nerves that run through him when In A Social Situation have started to quiet their incessant buzzing. His shoulders un-hunch and he rolls his head from one side to the other as if making sure to coat all surfaces of his brain with the alcohol.]
Can I pet you? You're like a...big kitty.
no subject
[Which is why, maybe, Greed's smile softens a bit. He lifts his shoulders with a lazy shrug before stretching himself over the bar just enough to make his hips knock along the other side of the counter. The collar may be commanding him to do it, but even so. This? This is simple enough.]
[Maurice really is another one of the good ones, isn't he?]
[The Sin coaxes his head to the side, offering up his ear.] Knock yourself out. [He purrs and his tail sways behind him.] Y'know, you're not a bad guy, 'Rice. If you ever find those other jobs of yours aren't working out, why don't you give me a call? This place gets busy enough, and I'm sure we could find something worth your time.
[On cue, he pulls out a napkin and a pen to blindly scribble down a few numbers before pushing it over to Maurice; his head, all the while, held out and waiting for a well-deserved scritch.]
no subject
[ 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?
I LOST THIS ... feel free to ignore
[When Maurice pulls away, the former homunculus rolls his head, causing one or two of his bones to crack.] Hmn? [He shakes himself out of his momentary stupor as he slowly straightens his back.]
Yeah, like a job. [He turns up the corner of his lip.] And it wouldn't be much. Mostly making sure we have enough stock when we open. That, and taking care of the occasional drop off. [Greed rubs the back of his neck. It may not have been his intent, but the way Maurice had stroked him: it leaves the bristles of his coat standing on end. The look of them more similar to the aftermath of a well-placed, statically charged balloon.]
[He flattens the fur under his palm, gliding it down smooth and slick.] Think about it. [The Sin taps the napkin twice with the tip of his nail. Tck, tck.] Doesn't have to be now. But consider it, would ya?
Got some things to do, but in the meantime, feel free to stick around. [The former homunculus gradually pulls away from the counter. Being as tall as he is now, he shuffles a bit on the balls of his feet, narrowly avoiding the prep station behind him the process. Eventually though (and with a little more effort than usual), he makes his way down the line of the bar. And with one hand raised high, the Sin flicks his wrist; his sendoff, quick and casual.]
Enjoy the drink, 'Rice.