mrofontaine:
‘’How could you not like me? I’m fuckin’ fantastic?’’ Olivier was laughing, and it felt so natural even if the action itself seemed devoid of who the man had allowed himself to become. But behind his eyes, there was something sinister. It was there, lingering, awaiting to pounce on anyone that dared challenge the man. ‘’You aren’t too bad yourself.’’ He added to the round of the compliment the man didn’t know how to take.
For a man who was usually bashful about those kinds of things, at least.
‘‘The scotch is the reason I spend uncontrollable amounts of hours here.’‘ With that, he raised his glass toward the other man, the corner of his lip tilting into a smirk. ‘‘That, and of course the women—’‘ for the first time in a long time. He wasn’t thinking about her.
The bitch with tits. It was a new name he’d come up with this morning; it helped, sometimes.
‘‘Are we on a black out drunk kind of vibe, or a slow and steady?’‘ Truth be told, Olivier would be on the black out drunk route, regardless. Anything that would help him fall into a deep sleep to which he wouldn’t have to worry about the dreams that he knew would come.
‘‘Or, we could do something else?’‘
-
“Something else, huh?” Andrew said light heartedly, “Well, you’re a handsome devil, but I’m afraid I don’t swing that way.”
“But in all honesty, that bottle of Macallan has been calling my name for awhile. I’ll split it with you?” He waved down the bartender without waiting for an answer. “Excuse me, sweetheart?” With a charming grin he pushed two hundred pound notes across the counter. “A fresh bottle of the Macallan 18, if you don’t mind?”
