kings and queens.

Malcolm Jessop Ducaine. Forty-Five. Drug Runner. Businessman. North Side and South Shores. Santa Cielo, FL.

[mjducaine-blog]

samanthahollis·:

So much of her life had been Samantha trying to prove something – be it to herself, or to the world. The world was built upon categorizing things and forcing someone to take the form the world thought they should. Sam had tried to play contortionist to fit into neat little boxes when she was younger, but she had stopped severing parts of herself to try to fit into a mold she was not made from. So much of her life had been spent screaming in an attempt to be heard. She was Samantha Hollis; so many things, and so few at the same time. She presented a tough face to the world, and she was – too hard at times, even – but Malcolm Ducaine had been one of the few that caught a glimpse of her big picture. She showed him who she was and let her voice whisper sweet nothings instead of being hoarse in an attempt to be heard. 

“I’ll hold you to it,” Sam managed to say through a grimace. His hand turning her head did not warrant her usual, defiant gaze. She gave his hand a faint squeeze, though her eyes lingered on the lock button as he stepped out of the car. Sam wrapped his knuckles far too many times that she didn’t put punching out the window above him. She was far from timid, but the steps she took towards the house were tentative when she let herself emerge. They would sit at a table beneath one of the ancient magnolia trees she had climbed in her youth – surrounded by their faint perfume and strung up in fairy lights. Little lights and control of the cake had been her only requests for their wedding. The rest had been placed in Mac’s hands. So much of herself had been placed in Mac’s hands, and hers sought out his once more. “Thank you for this.” Those words did not leave her reddened lips easily. Nothing about revisiting this would be easy.

Samantha Hollis was something of an anomaly to Malcolm - a group of puzzle pieces he couldn’t quite fit together, all fraying edges and bent middles. And yet, despite everything that made him sit up at night and contemplate the nature of their relationship, he couldn’t bring himself to quit her. There was a force that so often pulled them back together, one hardly being able to move without the other, both being magnets to one another in the worst of ways. Similarly, they softened each other - smoothed out their rough edges, tamped each other down into a perfectly level and acceptable form. Every hard piece they had ever worn and carried like armor that was too big for them, hanging loosely from their bodies as they stood defeated - all of it didn’t matter in the presence of each other. And that was why, in spite of his better judgment, Malcolm would find himself in a three-piece suit on the side of a road he had never been on before.

“You know I would do anything for you, Sam.” The man confessed, his voice softer than it had been before. He stuck his arm out for her, elbow extended in her direction should she feel the need to take it - though he had a feeling she would. The two of them never felt the need to stay overly close to each other, not showing a terrible amount of affection in public, but when it came down to it Malcolm felt more relaxed knowing Samantha was at his side - and being able to feel it as well.

[mjducaine-blog]

samanthahollis·:

“I don’t really do dresses, Mac,” Samantha complained as she tried to draw out the inevitable. She had, at one point. Only for him. Her youth had been filled with far too many. Ruffles, pleats, bows. They had been countered with tight jeans and motorcycle helmets. Red lips had been an attempt to appear older than underage as she carved out a place for herself in locations a young lady should not be caught dead in. They were traded for demure pinks on Sunday mornings. Her wild side had always been tempered with a vague shell of ladylikeness. Samantha Hollis had never been a dainty creature, but she had learned a breathy grace and elegance when the time for debutantes was thrust upon her. She had packaged herself up neatly for Mac in their time together. She had to make her elusiveness worth his while. The apprehension and dissatisfaction with her wardrobe in the hotel didn’t come down to a lack of know how. She could shed the scrubs and active wear and turn back into a stunner, but it all game with a glowering grudge. How did one dress to go to dinner in the very building where her life had been ripped apart? 

It was odd, seeing her childhood home once more. The drive up the allée, with arched trees tunneling towards her trauma, had been arduous. Samantha undid her seatbelt and debated if the car, or the building, seemed to be more claustrophobic. She had almost booked a night in the house turned boutique hotel. It was almost laughable, but the humor was lost on Sam. Maybe Jolene could find it. She had hated her middle name, but she didn’t mind it as much when coupled with the surname she almost took. “We’re gonna go, I’m not going to cry, and then you’re going to take this dress off of me and fuck my brain out before I blow it out.”

“You look better out of them anyway, Sam.” Malcolm stated matter of factly, not realizing that the compliment could have been taken the wrong way - he knew she was beautiful, so did she, there was no denying that. Truthfully, it had been one of the many reasons the man had been attracted to her in the first place - she had an unfathomable beauty about her that had nearly brought him to his knees, not that he would admit that to her. Not only was her exterior absolutely mesmerizing, but her personality was as well - she was able to keep him on his toes and for a man like Malcolm Ducaine, that was very hard to come by.

Allowing his hand to close around hers, the man gave it a squeeze before he unbuckled himself in unison with her. “Just have a couple drinks, Sam. I’ll completely ruin you later.” He stated, leaning over for a moment to cup her jaw in his hand - easily turning her to face him. His lips found hers, giving them a rather hard, but meaningful kiss. When he pulled back, he hardly gave her time to protest before he got out of his side as an indication that they were going in and there was no way around it.

[mjducaine-blog]

samanthahollis·:

@mjducaine

Dark nails wrapped around the steering wheel, white knuckling herself in an attempt to stay grounded. Her left hand lifted and game to rest on his thigh. She longed for the anonymity of her motorcycle helmet, but she navigated the rental car down the streets she still knew by heart. Tonight, Samantha Hollis was dead. She was not buried in the cemetery that she refused to visit, but she had ceased to exist in this town after she got the hell out. Jolene Ducaine simply existed instead – born in a moment of panic when she needed a name for the reservation. She swung the car around a hidden corner, picking out a small break in the formidable army of crepe myrtles. A long, crushed oyster shell driveway appeared in front of them as Sam cut the engine to a crawl. Pillars and a sweeping veranda greeted them as they edged closer. She pulled a pair of sunglasses down over her darkening gaze and forced out a breath after it hitched in her throat. The car ultimately came to a stop and Sam signaled it with one last pat on Mac’s thigh. “Fuck me for this fucking stupid idea.” 

Malcolm could sense the tension radiating from the woman next to him. He had always been relatively practiced in reading her, sometimes even before she was able to pinpoint her own emotional standing - but tonight was different. The rising anxiety in the woman was raw and obvious. It had been since they had left their room, Samantha huffing about not being able to decide on something to wear when Malcolm had been dressed for an hour at least. He was decorated in a suit, one that fitted him in all the right ways and highlighted the fact that he was a businessman at heart - one that knew a good quality suit combination when he saw one.

The hand he felt on his thigh made him raise an eyebrow, though for a moment he wondered if her nails would puncture the skin beneath his slacks. “If you want me to take it out on you later, I’m happy to oblige. Just give me the signal and we can make a run for it.” Malcolm stated, looking over at his companion with a growing grin - it was playful, one that he only really reserved for women named Samantha Hollis - or on this night, Jolene Ducaine. He had complimented her on the choice of name just mere hours before.

[mjducaine-blog]

samanthahollis·:

As an elusive spirit, Samantha made an impact when she allowed herself to be present. Her disconnect was not done out of passivity; she was simply best taken in small doses. She could radiate such intensity and found pleasure in watching others waiting for her to act. Most probable reactions had already been thought out. She was not simply one or two steps ahead, but rather creating entire paths with subtle diligence. 

Samantha thrived on control, yet there was only so much she could manipulate to her favor. The man before her held such unpredictability but he had truly been the most compatible opponent to go toe to toe. There had been such give and take – both genuinely offered and forcibly removed – on both ends. At times, Sam’s internal fight had gone out. Sometimes she would pick one with him, but at others, she had surrendered into his arms. That urge had not left her, but her own stubborn pride made her put down her phone. Or throw it across the room. She had not answered every one of his calls, but she had answered every door. Sam had stitched up Malcolm or anyone he dragged to her doorstep, she set broken fingers and taught how to wrap knuckles to evenly distribute the impact. 

She had learned to stop asking questions long ago. Some answers simply weren’t given, and some she didn’t want to hear. She hadn’t intended for her morning to go like this but she was doing little to stop it. Samantha Hollis wasn’t ready to surrender as she was dipped back. She continued pulling him closer and gave his bottom lip a small nip before deepening.

For a long moment, Malcolm let himself get swept up in the feelings his body was producing being this close to a woman he had once loved - feelings that she elicited in his system almost every time they were together. It wasn’t for lack of trying that the two had gone their separate ways, rather lack of trust and broken promises. But disregarding everything they had been through and all of the turmoil the two had produced in their wake, Malcolm never lost a familiar sense of calm that he felt with the woman - it had, after all, been one of the reasons why he had married her in the first place. That, and she was able to keep him on his toes in a way that made waking up more than just a business expense.

His strong hands continued to caress the woman over her soft skin as they kissed, something they had been practiced at over the years - until Malcolm made himself pull away. This was their game, you see; one always wanted the other more and both could not contribute to such elaborate sweet nothings. He rubbed his hand over his mouth with ease and shook his head, attempting to get rid of the sinful thoughts that had accumulated over the course of their practice.

“Samantha Hollis, you have a way with me.” The man murmured, voice low but rather unapologetic. His eyes took in the sight of the beautiful woman before he moved to grab the shirt she had stolen from him - pulling it over his broad shoulders in an attempt to close the contact further between the two of them.

[mjducaine-blog]

samanthahollis·:

Samantha had offered him something other than her eternal apathy. He had gotten glimpses of so much more. All of their little moments and pieces she showed to no one else cast certain moments in a fond haze. The way her nose crinkled when she let herself laugh too loud, the way his fingers connected the freckles upon her shoulders when she took the time to revel in the soft glow of the sun and life. The way she could bring him to his knees while she was on hers – but she refused to let herself get swept up in memories of only the good. 

He had found her at her lowest, and offered higher ground. She somehow sank further, yet let them ascend to the distant star of her heart – burning lightyears away, and never quite reachable. She had tried the hardest with Malcolm Ducaine, but Samantha Hollis was not made for love. There was no room for it in her equation of control and causticness. The fire they had both gravitated to and sought out in the other had kept her warm until it left her gasping for air. 

One hand stayed delicately upon his neck as the other landed on his chest once more. She had missed this tactile tenderness, though she would never admit that. Sam let her hand dance down his body before it came to rest with a finger coiling through a belt loop. She gave a sharp pull with both arms as her mouth found his as she let it say all of the things she wouldn’t vocalize. 

The feeling of Samantha’s mouth on his was one that he so often would relish in during their formative years - both when they were together and when they weren’t. It was rare that a woman would leave Malcolm Ducaine sitting up at night with a careful eye on his phone in case her name was to light up the screen in his dimly lit bedroom. Yet, there he was, so many nights waiting for her call that he would never receive. Though the frivolousness was often reciprocated, with Malcolm leaving the woman cryptic drunk messages at ungodly hours of the night or showing up the next morning with a blood-soaked shirt. Thinking back on their entirety, it had been an intense relationship - semi-shortlived but otherwise fierce. He supposed the majority of his companionships held sentiments of the same emotions given that he was a man of repetition.

With the hair on the back of his neck standing up from the tingles her hand left behind, Malcolm leaned into the woman and allowed one hand to find the small of her back. He bent her backward slightly with ease as they kissed, using the familiar power negotiation in his favor even though she seemed to have the upper hand. Everything in Malcolm’s body was buzzing, though whether or not it was from Samantha Hollis or the coffee he had ingested before was up in the air - admittedly, he hoped that it wasn’t the latter.

[onceuponamusing]

      there might be a hell         w a i t i n g        for me LATER——

       but there is a hell        c o m i n g           for you NOW.

[mjducaine-blog]

krissyreyes·:

She tried a few more punches, doing her best to duck out of the when when he returned them. This was a bit of a dance, it seemed, choreographed movements that held a very specific purpose. Kristina wouldn’t be joining a fight club of any sort any time soon, be she supposed that it would be helpful not to have to rely on somebody else to come to her aid.

The pair continued their dance for a while longer until both of them had to go for a hydration break - something they had practiced in more spaces than one. Malcolm sucked back some water and eyed the woman doing the same, a smile forming on his lips. “You’re much more trained than I thought, dollface. No offense.” He stated simply.

[mjducaine-blog]

samanthahollis·:

It was funny – they had been apart now longer than they were together. Four years was a significant amount of time for Samantha, but there had been wisps of smoke before it all went up in flames. There had been parts of herself that she was still revealing up until the very end; they were both smooth and sharp facets hidden amongst her edges and depths. His fire had matched her own, and melted parts she had iced out long ago before burning from the inside out. Malcolm Ducaine had come the closest to unraveling the mystery of Samantha Hollis.

Samantha held his gaze, though she lifted her chin slightly in a stubborn, subtle victory. “That’s Dr. Hollis, to you.” As he retreated, Sam claimed his space as she reached out a hand to stroke his stubble before coming to land upon the side of his neck. “Show me, don’t tell me.”

Malcolm had always been a slave to the woman that once held his heart - despite the fact that he was elementally never that hung up on anybody. She had a way with him that had caused him to see the world differently, at one time making him question whether or not the life he was living was one he wanted to drag her into. But he had and that was how they had ended up in this very situation - no longer married but still connected to each other in every sense of the world.

His strong hands found the crook of her knees and pulled her against his body as he moved his fingers to tangle into her hair. There was a warm smirk growing on his lips as he stared at the woman, examining her features intently as though he could look at her forever - but he wouldn’t admit that to her. They had been through so much as a couple, both good and bad, that he knew any real chance of them reverting back to their ways wasn’t going to happen.

Another long moment of him watching her before he leaned in and pressed his mouth against hers, allowing whatever feelings they were experiencing to pass through them as easily as they had been stirred just a moment before.

[mjducaine-blog]

samanthahollis·:

Elusivity had been a trait Samantha could not have learned early enough in life. She had been born into a world of chaos, in a town too small to keep it contained. Image had been everything, yet it did little to placate what went down behind closed doors. Sam was constantly shedding the expectation of the image others had of her. She would tell you who she was, but she enjoyed being able to slip away and fade into nothingness; emerging and poised only to strike. She shuttered the vulnerable parts away, though at times it seemed like it was her whole being. Her innate aloofness and long hours were a burden to many, but her choice to be present made their time together all the more important. She had made it worth his while, and rough hands would yank her from isolation when she didn’t offer enough. There were times when she needed to be dragged back into the world of the living. 

Sam had chosen to initiate the pinioning of limbs as she perched upon the counter, yet had claimed her own space. She had welcomed the invasion early on but would dance just out of reach. She needed to be in control; even if she was manipulating things to end in a short chase. Samantha needed to be taken. This moment echoed so many others they had shared, yet it almost felt like she had never left at all – but she had. They had both excelled at keeping the other guessing, but the game of trying to outmaneuver the other had grown tedious. Many would wither under such obvious leering, but she had flourished under it in the past. She met it currently with a quirked brow, “like what you see?”

Samantha Hollis had always had a way with manipulating Malcolm in the best of ways. It was one of the reasons why their relationship had burned so quickly - good things must come to an end, he figured. It had started out wonderful, albeit a little questionable, but had burned very quickly with the passion of one thousand suns. It was quintessential Malcolm Ducaine to jump into something quickly and let it go up in smoke all in the same breath - but did that stop him from investing himself whole-heartedly into the kind of woman that was sitting in front of him? Absolutely not.

A sigh escaped his lips as he let his eyes flicker back toward her, a look of very slight desperation hidden beneath his heavy lids. “I would ravish you, Samantha Hollis.” The man murmured before he forced himself to take a step back.

[mjducaine-blog]

samanthahollis·:

Samantha held his gaze and her head high. Defiance and mischief rose in her eyes; the two moods Mac could still elicit so easily. She did not flinch as the knife came into view. Their time together had taught her otherwise. If he was looking for a reaction, she was not prone to giving it so easily. Worse had been pulled on her, and Sam had always prided being able to take the punches that life, and even some people, had thrown at her. Her father had taught her to throw something right back. 

When an inch of wiggle room was given, Sam reached her arms back towards the counter. She pushed herself up to sit, and her legs circled his waist where her arm had just lingered. She placed her palm flat on his chest, wondering for a minute if they would have made it under other circumstances – such a dangerous game to play. Sam retracted her touch but let her head tilt to the side, not offering any reaction beyond a smirk of her own. She was still probing for one. Any indication of an answer to the question she would never ask. “Always a man of surprise.”

Malcolm hummed as the woman moved onto the island - a sight he had seen many times before but one that he wouldn’t ever be tired of being privy too. He rested his palms flat against the woman’s thighs and leaned into her space, an act of defiance he had practiced throughout their marriage and otherwise. Though invading Samantha’s sphere was never an intimidation tactic, not all the time, at least. He would never admit it but he enjoyed being close to the woman. She gave him a feeling nobody had ever given him before - one of the many reasons why they had married in the first place.

“You know I like to keep you on your toes, Sam. Always have.” The man stated, making it a point to look her body over in a way that he knew she would be able to see - maybe he wanted to watch her react to his gaze, maybe he just wanted to admire her beauty for another moment before their small corner of the galaxy got washed away by the mundane routine they had become accustomed too.

[mjducaine-blog]

krissyreyes·:

A chuckled bubbled up from her throat and her eyes locked on his while her tongue slowly ran over her top lip. Back to that list of things she would rather be doing than trying to kick Malcolm Ducaine in the face… She allowed him to pull her arms up over her head and she cocked her head to the side slightly, waiting for his next move. Unfortunately, he backed away, still dedicated to this ridiculous exercise. 

Kristina let out a huff of air through her nose and used her hands to push herself away from the wall. With another deep breath she went at him again, pushing hard against his chest with all of her might and twisting back around again before he could grab her.

Malcolm stumbled back a few steps as the woman gave him a rather impressive shove - nearly making him trip over his own feet before he caught himself. The man raised his eyebrows again and regained his balance before he gestured to the woman. “Alright, alright. Keep it comin’ gorgeous.” The man stated, wiping his forehead on the back of his hand.

[mjducaine-blog]

samanthahollis·:

His touch was all too fleeting. She hid a forming frown by raising the mug to her lips as she watched him depart, taking a long sip. Samantha took in his retreating form until Malcolm slipped out of view and turned her gaze back upon the bourbon – the third member in many of their threesomes. With the flick of her wrist, Sam studied the timepiece upon it and estimated when some lab results would finally be dropped upon her desk. She would have to pay that dear, old friend a visit at a later date. Her attention shifted when he stepped back into view. 

“I think I liked it better before,” she pushed off the counter and invaded his space once more. Sam circled behind him and let an arm wrap around his waist, her other lifting the shirt and draping it over the stool she had evacuated moments earlier. He didn’t need it quite yet. “Are we talking rusty butter knife, or something more tactical? What’s your current, preferred method of taking tongues?” Hers? Between the teeth. 

Malcolm let his head dip only for a moment as his former partner encircled his waist with her arm before she took his shirt - oh, the familiarity of the game they so often played. It warmed him inside for a moment, appreciating how tantalizing he had always found the woman in front of him. Even after so many years of being apart, it felt as though nothing had changed - and for right now he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Regardless, his interactions with Samantha always made a coy smirk find his lips, including this one.

It took only a single second before the man had the woman backed up against the island, one hand under her chin to force her head into a stationary position - not a hard grip, but it wasn’t particularly gentle either. He slid a knife from his back pocket and flicked it open, eyeing the woman before he let go of her face, though not letting her move away from him just yet. “Straight from the source.” The man stated, letting his dark eyes squint slightly as his smirk grew.

[mjducaine-blog]

krissyreyes·:

A triumphant grin spread over her lips and it took everything in her not to let out a mocking HA. Her hands went to rest on her hips and she watched him, waiting for praise to be showered upon her. When she received it she raised her hands to tighten her ponytail, only he did not seem to think this was the time for a quick break. His arm hooked around her and Krissy yelped as he pushed her backwards, trying and failing to push her palms against his chest.

Her wrists and back softly hit the wall and Kristina sighed, catching her breath while she tipped her chin upwards so she could look up at him. “I’m beginning to think you have ulterior motives here,” she returned slowly, brow raisin slightly.

Malcolm let a salacious grin spread across his face as he looked down at the smaller woman, allowing his forehead to press against hers for only a moment. Did he have ulterior motives? Not necessarily, but it would be hard for him to deny that their practice was making him feel a certain type of way. It was no secret that Malcolm liked it rough, so such acts - even though they were not inherently sexual in nature - could turn so very quickly for him.

He let his hands drag hers up above her head, holding them in place while he looked down at her, catching his breath slowly. For a moment he looked at her, letting himself get lost in those eyes that gave him warmth in his chest before he let her go, stepping back and rubbing his hand over his chest.

“I definitely do, but that’s not the point here, dollface.” The man stated, getting back in position with his hands near his face and his back leg extended slightly so he could have good leverage.

[mjducaine-blog]

krissyreyes·:

He had caught her arm in an instant and Kristina let out an aggravated groan when he pulled her close, her back settling against his chest. She froze when he rose the knife, the image of him holding one covered in blood flashing before her eyes for a split second until she blinked a few times to get rid of it. He wasn’t actually going to hurt her. He wouldn’t.

His breath was hot on her face and she nodded a tiny nod to show that she understood. “Yeah. I don’t think anyone is going for my carotid, though,” she returned quietly, unable to drop any of the sass that was housed inside of her. When he let her go she took a slow few steps forward before turning on him, this time raising her leg and swinging it around to land a kick against his chest.

Malcolm had only let his guard down for a half of a second before he found himself being knocked backward slightly by a kick to his chest - a pretty damn good one at that too. He rubbed the spot and let out a cough, raising his eyebrows at the woman after a moment of catching his breath. His dark eyes met her and he nodded slowly, moving toward her with a smile on his face.

“Okay, okay, not bad. I’ll give you that one.” The man stated as he meandered over to her, still rubbing his chest as though she had gotten him pretty hard. Though it only took another breath before he had grabbed her around the waist and backed her up against one of the far falls, hands holding hers behind her back as he raised an eyebrow at her. “Good, but not good enough.” Malcolm teased, looking down at her through heavy-lidded eyes.

[mjducaine-blog]

krissyreyes·:

This session was not Kristina’s idea. She could think of a million things that she would rather be doing with Malcolm Ducaine, and throwing punches was certainly not one of them. Slaps? Maybe. Depending on where… But here she found herself in the gym in his complex, frowning at him as she protested. “Mac, I don’t need this,” she said for probably the tenth time that day. Was Santa Cielo becoming more dangerous by the minute? Yes. But Kristina had survived the streets of New York City and she was sure that nothing was worse than that.

When it became clear yet again that he wasn’t giving in, Kristina groaned and decided to comply. After taking a deep breath, she swatted the ends of her ponytail out of her face and lunged toward him, fist extending as quickly as she could.

Malcolm was more than prepared for the woman to lunge at him - in fact, he encouraged it. It was the only way he would feel good about Kristina protecting herself if he knew exactly what she was being taught. Besides, he wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to get a little rough with a woman who looked like that. Who would? As she lunged at him, he almost immediately grabbed her by the wrist and twisted her arm behind her back, pulling her body up against his.

His other arm wrapped around her upper body, hand positioning a blade near the artery in her neck for the show. For a moment he breathed against her cheek before he held the knife out in front of her in a gesture - showing her what could have been. “This would take your carotid right out. You hesitated and I knew where you were going.” He murmured before letting her arm go, not that it was in a particularly rough hold, but a hold nonetheless.

[mjducaine-blog]

[ @krissyreyes ]

“Dollface, c’mon. You’re not going to hurt me. I’ve been through worse, believe me. Just defend yourself like I’m coming at you - it’ll be fine.” Malcolm stated, gearing up his hands in front of him as though he were getting ready for a boxing match. He stood in front of the woman in nothing but his gym shorts, shirt having been discarded a while ago from other activities they had put into practice. But since they had gotten onto the topic of people hassling the woman, Malcolm took it upon himself to teach her - or at least attempt to - how to defend herself in such situations should they arise again in the future.

He gave her the motion with his fingers, telling her to invade his space as he waited, angling his hips toward her so he would have good leverage should she try to knock him off balance. The man waited patiently as the woman protested, giving her a look as he stayed in position - he supposed the first key trick was to always stay alert and focused and ready to go in case somebody changed their mind. Now wasn’t any different.

[mjducaine-blog]

samanthahollis·:

“To life, or whatever,” Samantha echoed. Now was not the time to start reevaluating hers. She slid off the stool, angling to put a splash of cream into the coffee. Sam paused when darkened hues spotted the bourbon and a trained hand snaked around the neck of the bottle. "I’ll keep that in mind,” she gave a small nod, twisting off the cap. She couldn’t decide if Mac was more or less appealing than drowning in a mini bar at Barnacle Bay. She dropped a hint of it into the mug, though she wanted to stop just sort of the whole bottle. It should be just enough to take the edge off, but that’s all Samantha was. Edges and sharpness; a razor of wit and diligence. Samantha didn’t do vulnerability, and he didn’t really do sympathy – it was one thing they had been properly matched on. His gaze was met and she took a sip before letting her gaze drift about the kitchen. “Not much has changed, has it?” Decor, and otherwise. 

Malcolm found a smirk while the woman across from him reached for the bottle of bourbon - a signature in the house of Ducaine. He took the bottle from her afterward and put a significant amount into his own mug, setting it down and standing up once he had done so. The man moved around the island and set a hand on Samantha’s waist, pressing his lips to her cheek tenderly before he moved out of the kitchen.

It only took a moment for him to come back and when he did he was dressing - a shirt slung over his broad shoulder and pants being buckled up with ease. Not that he minded being nearly naked in front of the woman he had once been married to, but it wasn’t the type of look he was going for. Besides, he was still hungover from the night before and putting on actual clothes might make him feel like a human being - or so he thought.

“I’m a man of routine, Samantha. I like what I like and if anybody decides to fuck that up, I’ll take their tongue. Simple as that.” He stated.