dante.
“If it didn’t bother you,” Dante said in a sing-song with a wag of his finger over the back of the couch, “You wouldn’t be so pissy right now. Fuck your bad vibes, Kat. You’re gonna sour your sigils like that. All these negative energies all up in here. Icky shit, making my skin itch. I’ll have you know there is a huge difference in expending my energy on healing a chunk bitten out of me, and—”
His phone rang, a little chiming 8-bit sound from some arcade game, and his sentence fell away as he kicked his phone into his hand to answer it. There was a long silence as he typed out a reply, and then he tossed the phone aside and said, apropos of nothing, “Threesome.”
He downed the rest of his bowl of milk, wiping haphazardly at his chin before he continued. “That’s what would fix all this unresolved tension me and you got going on. Don’t even deny it, Kat, you’ve been staring at my tits this whole time. Talk about objectifying. Listen—you, me, and a stripper off the street. Right? Look, it can even be a guy, I really don’t care. As long as he sucks dick, I’m in.” He seemed to be struggling to keep a straight face. “You name the time and the place, I’m there. Angry threesome. Get it all out in the open. Hey—are you gonna leave the door open?”
The teasing lilt in his voice was probably the only thing that kept her from scoffing audibly at the suggestion. Previous offers (of varying degrees of sincerity) had given him ample chances to find out just how willing Kat was to begin hosting his habitual misadventures with his stripper friends. Which was to say, not at all.
"It couldn't be just any stripper off the street," she replied without turning, a little shrug rolling through her shoulders. "It's not much of an angry threesome if you're starting us out with a neutral party. I mean, it's going to need to get pretty aggressive. That much is obvious. Can't you find someone who's got some real tension built up instead? Someone who wouldn't mind decking you at least once. You've got plenty of friends, I'm sure there's one in there somewhere. I'd actually be surprised if there weren't a lot of them."
She leaned out of the bathroom then, a little tendril of incense smoke following her as Kat held the stick to point at him accusingly. "And they have to look good," she added. "But not too good, or I'll end up feeling out of my league. I'm talking like a solid seven. Nobody scrawny, either. Also, I'd prefer it to be on a full moon, during winter, and we have to each be painted from head to toe in a different color. No standard weapons, but improvised is fine. I'm thinking of a warehouse setting, though forest could work too. Oh, and I want someone there to keep score. How do you feel about leather? No, never mind, I already know the answer to that."
She turned away again, propping the stick up on the lid of a cardboard box which had been punctured with multiple holes for that exact purpose. "Get back to me when you can make it work," Kat called back to him as she worked her shirt up and off over her head, allowing a brief peek of her naked back before her heel caught the corner of the door and she kicked it shut.
