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[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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[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.