Booze is the magic word to make you move and stop making her nervous. You head right for the kitchen with a smile. “Don’t mind if I fuckin’ do…”
You crack open a bottle and grab a chair at the kitchen table. Looking at her with curious side-eye.
“You ask a lot of random stuff, did you know?” You take a swig of booze and stare at the ceiling a moment. “Fuck it, alright…” you start counting off answers on your fingers “Rare steak, hard liquor, that weird muddled color when a bruise is half healed… pretty much anything with gratuitous explosions or horror… alt rock, don’t really have a favorite song… and don’t read for pleasure.” you finish the list and shrug, skipping over the paint question for now.
“By the way… I’m startin’ to lose count of the times you call me hot.. you sure it’s your `couch you want me crashin’ on?” You smirk.
His oh so curious side eye makes you pause as you set his plate down in front of him, raising your brow back as to question him in return. Thank the Messiah’s he took the offer of booze and snagged a bottle of it as he sat down at the table.
“What? Ahm ah nice gal but ah gotta least know some shit bout’cha. Level one friendship an’ trust” You say that like you can’t handle yourself at all, Lulu, but you’d think he’d know better than try and harm you at this point. “Sides this isn’t a vidya game ahm nah gonna be able tah get yer tragic backstory by cheatin’ the approval system wit’ booze.”
As he ticks the questions off, the timer dings, and you go about pulling it out, setting the hot ceramic dish in the center of the table, noting his lack of answering the paint question. Seems that was a no-go question.
“To answer tha same questions so yer on tha same level of knowledge: Key lime pie, lemon-lime soda, green, gold and especially purple, same fer movies here, prefer horror though. Dubstep, techno, alt-rock and metal for music, favorite song is “Freak like me” and favorite book is probably the one ahm readin’ right now on bio-chemical warfare. S’ah good read.”
However you pause as you go to serve the pair of you, when he makes that smart ass comment about your flirting. You normally wouldn’t be against bedding a stranger of his colour, especially considering he seemed alright with your mutations but since he asked you oh so bluntly, you decided it was time to yank his bulge and not in the fun way. Operation: fuck with the hive guest.
Putting the the serving spoon down, you move over, your hand sliding out under his chin, a nail dragging up his jawline with the confidence of some one who’s done this before, before you lean down, your mouth hovering at his ear, words taking on a husky tone, something sultry, and oh so alluring to the senses.
“You can come crash in my bed wit’ me…” And with that you make as if you’re going to kiss him, lips hovering a nary inch away from his, before you pull away, leaving him hanging. “But that’s not gonna happen today unless you ditch the paint or tell me what it means, Dio.”
And with that, you grab the serving spoon up once again, and plop a healthy amount of mac and cheese down on his plate, and then your own, before you take your seat, humming in such a whimsical manner.
“Hot as yah are, an’ as quick as ah’d jump yer bones normally, yer nah one day lay material, babe. Nah tha’ ahm insinuating yer lackin’ or anythin’ jus ah’d rightly like tah get tah know yah a wee bit better before ah let’cha shove yer bulge in my mouth. Friends before tha benefits and all that.”
Taking a sip of your soda in between slow bites, you actually don’t watch him, letting him eat in peace while you do the same, kind of actually humming some kind of tune while you do.
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