it's always sunny

multimuse blog. boldhq. 「 TOMMY, GIOVANA, MAXWELL, MOLLY 」

[sunnysaints]

      “I dunno, I’m kinda into it,” Molly shrugs emphatically, cracking a joker grin. Granted this onset of holiday cheer may have been brought on by the three deliciously chocolatey pints of porter she’s just slammed. That, or the turkey hat someone’s popped onto the crown of her head. She poses, all blue steel, “Proper dashing, no? I mean, yeah, it’s all a bit... politically dubious, but anything’s better than gathering a Thanksgiving feast comprised of items from the Taco Bell dollar menu.” Because, really, who cooks these days? 

Backlit by passing floats and twirling performers, Molly bounces on the balls of her feet. “Right then. How many shots will it take for you to have a dance with me?”

[sunnysaints]

“  APPARENTLY  ,  ABANDONING  YOUR  FAMILY  and  breaking  promises  to  disappear  for  eight  years  takes  more  than  a  few  months  to  fix, ” romy  makes  a  joke  of  it  by  shrugging  emphatically,  but  the  more  she’s  forced  to  acknowledge  just  how  deep  she  screwed  things  up,  the  more  tommy’s  frustration  seems  inherently  understandable. “  we’re  callahans,  we  cling  to  our  grudges.  it’s  what  keeps  our  skin  clear.  ”  romy  still  despised  betsy  harrington  for  stealing  her  sugar  cookie  in  the  fourth  grade,  pointedly  ignoring  her  during  a  grocery  store  run  -  in & purchasing  a  fresh  box  of  cookies  in  front  of  her.  “ i  dunno,  maybe  i’ll  head  to  new  york  or  finally  make  myself  an  expat  in  london  …  pick  somewhere  on  a map,  and  we  can  go. ”  it  was  a fun  game  they’d  play  in  the  height  of  their  relationship,  but  sat  in  the  family  bar  with  minimal  service  has  a bleak  edge  to  it.

“ well, ”  she  begins,  that  kittenish  smile  never  too  far  away  whenever  molly’s  in  close  proximity,   “ if  you  ever  need  a  tour  of  philly  to  keep  you  around,  i’m  your  huckleberry.  ”  she  had  secret  spots,  sacred  locations  she’d  only  want  the  most special  people  in  her  life  to  know  about. “ and  that’s  why  i  like  you.  ” there’s  an  obvious  weight  coming  from  your  ex  in  a  none - too - distant  past,  but  her  sincerity  comes  in  the  fond  flicker  in  her  gaze;  she’s  turned  fully  to  molly  now,  and  it’s  difficult not to  notice  how  damn  pretty she  looks  in  this  chilly  city. “  do  you  want  to  get  out  of  here  ?  there’s  a  sweet  cafe  nearby,  and  i  —  if  my  brother  sees  you,  he’ll  assume  you’re  part  of  the  toxic  west  coast  crowd  and  i  haven’t  yet  explained  to  him  that  there  were  actually  some people  out  there  who  tried  their best  with  me.  ” a  girl  i’d  do  anything  for,  apparently. “ anyway  —  the  vegan  rolls  are  good ?  ”

      We can go. Romy makes it sound so effortless, easy. And, really, why shouldn’t it be? For the past six months the drama-tinged lens of their combined past has clouded Molly’s vision, kept her from reaching out to the person she’s always taken care of. It seems borderline selfish now, having retained a distance between herself and Romy, who she knew could probably use a friendly face. The thought manifests itself in her hands which scoops her hair up onto the crown of her head, twisting it anxiously into a piled up bun. “Yeah? Got some old makeout spots mapped out?” Molly twists her shoulders in a shimmy, only partially joking. “When do I get to meet your friends? You-- do still have friends, don’t you?” her hand covers Romy’s with faux sympathy. A grin follows close behind. “Ooh, maybe some old boyfriends? Would love to compare notes.”

Getting out of this bar shoots to number one with a bullet on Molly’s priority list, who’s decidedly bugged out by the whole thing. She digs through her pockets for some dollars to toss onto the bartop, all the while directing dramatically miffed glances at Romy. “Christ alive, didn’t you speak to him at all? How the hell isn’t he aware how fucking intrinsically angelic I am? Doesn’t he have an Instagram?” She scoffs, this is an issue for another day. One Callahan at a time. “--Ugh, damn you. All right, all right. You got me, you sly little fox, go on then.”

[hestiias-deactivated20181124]

     her arms are folded over her chest as she makes her way from her apartment, down the busy street. she hated holidays ; she had since she was little, and thanksgiving was no different. who cared if there were huge feasts? her dad was off doing business, her nonna was gone, and her aunt had her own family. nova was busy and she honestly had nothing else to do. she’d end up getting drunk at home and eating…nothing. as soon as she turned the corner, her shoulder roughly shoved into someone else’s. even if it had been her fault ( she wasn’t going to say it was. everyone’s in HER way ), she turned to shout at the stranger and stopped short as soon as she saw who it was. “oh. you.” as if tommy didn’t have a name. “is that hot cocoa? i’ve been trying to find a fucking vendor for the last fifteen minutes.” josie didn’t think twice before she grabs the cup from his hands and takes a sip from it. “it could use something stronger,” she murmurs and just gives him a look. “i didn’t take you for a parade person.” josie was freezing and she rocked back and forth on the heels of her feet. her cheeks and the tip of her nose were already a rosy pink and she sniffled, but still held his cup between her hands. / @sunnysaints​

[sunnysaints]

      “Nice to see you, too, Jo,” he greets with a hollow laugh and a shake of his head, still distinctly genial. Thanksgiving, and pretty much every other holiday, is historically a shit show in Tommy’s family. Between his absent twin and his drunkard father, being verbally maimed by Josie is akin to soft holiday cheer. That said, he dips his head in a concurring nod and from the inside of his big jacket procures a silver flask filled with some liquid warmth. “Way ahead of you,” or behind her, as the case may be. Keeping up with Josie is a task in itself, and certainly requires alcohol. He pushes the tin into her hand. 

“--I’m not, really. Shit kinda creeps me out. Something about the bloodlust, maybe?” Tommy dubiously eyes a man dressed up as an elaborate turkey being chased by a knife-wielding pilgrim. “S’good entertainment, though. Still better than drinking alone in an empty bar,” he shrugs, suspects her situation is familiar. “What’s your excuse?” His sidelong glance catches the shiver that pulls through her and he’s sighing, chiding. “Christ, man. You gonna kick me in the shin if I try and give you my coat? You’re, like, one sniffle away from becoming a human popsicle.”

[consqvncias-deactivated20181227]

The was bar quiet, which was only to be expected since the night was very young. There was still a good hour left before their usual wave and Valeria had been trying to occupy themselves with simple tasks, such as cleaning and organizing. The tasks proved to be rather pointless though, since it did nothing to lift their boredom. “I’m hungry.” They sighed, perhaps a bit too dramatically as they fished their phone out of their back pocket. “I think I’m gonna try to order some Chinese food before the good places close. You want anything? Or are we in the mood for Mexican instead?”

@sunnysaints​

[sunnysaints]

       “I’m Tommy,” he answers automatically, distracted by his mission to make a card house. He may not have children but he sure does have the dad jokes on lock. The mention of food has him perking though, and when his two-tier castle of cards comes down again he glances back at Val with a quirk in his brow. “You buying?” Filling up on the beer and the bar peanuts was getting old, he’ll admit. “I could use some chow mein... Ooh, orange chicken?”

[sunnysaints]

ROMY  INVOLUNTARILY  RECALLS the  last  time  she  saw  molly  -  head  pounding,  chest  aching,  drowned  in the fluorescent  lighting  of  the  rehabilitation  center.  romy  had  felt  guilty  and  embarrassed,  eclipsed  in  the  sort  of  shame  she  rarely  indulged  in  around  molly.  six,  almost  seven  months  ago,  wasn’t  it  ?  she  wonders  what’s  CHANGED  for  her,  but  decides  against  voicing  the  inquiry;  she’s  had  enough  disappointments  for  one  day.  “ interesting  vacation  spot, ” romy  remarks  quietly,  but  there’s  an  audible  smile  in  her  words.  “  i  wanted  to  be  somewhere  warm  this  time  of  year,  not  freezing  my  tits  off  in  my  hometown.  bet  there’s  a  reese  witherspoon  movie  about  this. ”

she  takes  a  slow  sip  of  her  drink,  and  she  plays  a  game  where  she  pretends  there’s  a  splash  of  vodka;  it’s  a  secret  game  nobody,  not  even  her  sponsor,  knows  about,  and  she  always  wins.  “  undecided,  i  guess.  my  agent  says  i’m  pressing  my  luck  the  longer  i’m  about  here,  but  i  don’t  know  if  i’m  ready  for  …  all that  yet.  ”   her  hollywood  friends  weren’t  the  cleanest  bunch,  and  she  always  thought  molly  was  being  a  stick  in  the  mud  when  she  didn’t  want  to  go  out  (  not  like  she  needs  MORE  reasons  to  prove  why  molly  jensen  was  a  bright  light  in  her  dark  world  ) .  “ are  you  staying  out  here  much  longer ?  ”  romy  tries  to  mask  the  glimmer  of  hope  that  hitches  in  her  throat,  but  she’s  only  human.  “ it’d  be  nice  to  have  one  person  out  here  who actually speaks  to  me  without  wondering  if  i’ll  crack. ”

       “I like it,” Molly counters, affirming the notion that it’s all purely coincidence with a pointed glance that still proves genial. Romy does have her point, though, it’s colder than what she’s gotten accustomed to and the iced tea isn’t doing much to warm her up. “Sweet Home Philadelphia? Unpleasantville... ooh, Legally Bone-chilling,” she bites into her grin, coltish at the expense of making Romy crack a smile. It’s infinitely easier to jab elbows about the silly things than ask the serious questions. The only exception being questions that don’t revolve around the untimely end of their relationship. “Not so warm here for you then? Thought he’d be over it by now.” He being Tommy. Stubbornness must run in the family.

The obvious thought to Molly is to question whether or not it’s staying here that would be pressing her luck, or going back to Los Angeles. Wisely, she decides to keep it to herself for once. “You’re a killer talent, they’ll all be happy to have you back, whenever it happens,” biting her tongue makes her too diplomatic. “Me? I dunno, got something like six months left. Depends on what I’ve sorted out by then, I guess,” Molly shrugs it off, best not to make any commitments. Still, her restraint is thin and she can’t help an admiring roll of her eyes. “No, I speak to you like you are cracked.”

[sunnysaints]

   ODETTE  IS  BRIEFLY  caught  off - guard  at  his  sir  suggestion  ,  but  a coy  smile  doesn’t  take  too  long  to  unfurl  itself  around  her  lips  .   “  doesn’t  a  title  like  that  have  to  be  earned  ,  mr.  mcfadden  ?  ”   she  shakes  out  her  damp  golden  tresses  ,  a  far  cry  from  the  meticulous  waves  she’d  spent  all  morning  curling  in  place  .  “  mm ,   very keen  memory  you’ve  got  . ” it’s  difficult  to  be  genuinely  offended  by  someone  who  likely  meets  a  dozen  new  people  each  night  —  the  sweets  girl is  difficult  to  remember  when  it  comes  to  socialites  &  big  wigs  .   “  well  ,  yes  ,  on  my  better  days  i am  the  dot’s  girl  —  the  dot’s  girl  who  is  marginally  less  soaked  ,  thanks  to  you  . ” her  eyes  flicker  to  the  pastel  pink  exterior  just  a  few  paces  away  .  “ care  for  a  cookie  for  your  troubles ?  ”

      “I’m up to the challenge,” he assures her, even toned and ever amiable as he navigates their small bubble of dry safety around puddles and mud patches. Max cocks his head at her, his sidelong smile traced with apology. “Not keen enough. What do they call you? Or will I have to find a way to earn that, too? Dot’s girl is a little vague of a title...,” Max muses, trailing off a little as his gaze follows her’s. The cotton candy pink building is the unmistakable destination. He has to laugh. “A whole cookie? That’d hit the spot, thank you.”

[sunnysaints]

Mason pulls a face at Max’s description of his work day, looking downright struck by how he described it. To him, it was the greatest job in the world – even if things had slowed some lately.

“First of all, good music can never go out of date. Some songs will always be timeless and thus, will never get old. I could listen to them on a loop and cute little indie girls? That is so specific. Guess I’m in the wrong business, maybe I’d be better suited doing – wait, what is it you do again? Party hard and call it work?”

     Feigning offense, Max puts his hands up in lieu of a little white flag. His giddiness for Mason’s reaction is barely contained. “All right, all right don’t crack a hip!” And then, after a beat, “--Specific? You mean to tell me she’s the only one you’ve got peddling product in there?” Brows raised and hand dramatically flourishing back towards the store, and the mini brunette inside, Max is hardly suppressing his grin but the amusement is alive in his tone. “Jesus Christ, man, you might wanna add a few more to the payroll. Maybe make it not quite so obvious.”

“Mm-- party promotion,” his hands stretch an invisible arc in the sky, imagining the words as a neon sign. “Totally legitimate resume fodder,” Max assures him with a wink and a laugh. He’s the first to admit it - overworked he is not.

[sunnysaints]

( ✉ → sms ) i borrowed your weed. hope you don’t mind. -- max/mason!

[ max ]: ??? ??[ max ]: k so what we’re NOT gonna do is /that/[ max ]: the Summer of Love is OVER, ol man, the world is no longer in black n white and we pay for our weed now !!

[sunnysaints]

( ✉ → sms ) [ File Attached : 001329 .j pg ] of all the drunk pictures i have of you, this one is my favorite. / romy n molly

[ molly ]: look, ok, could’ve happened to anyone. when did we meet a groucho marx impersonator ??[ molly ]: also i maintain you’re the one who pushed me into the bloody fountain !! i still owe you for that, beware there’s no statute of limitations on mad fuckery. sobriety will not protect you.

[sunnysaints]

( ✉ → sms ) sooooo… what was your first impression of me -- tommy/hero!

[ tommy ]: omg.[ tommy ]: cocky and funny lookin. bad taste in whiskey ;)[ tommy ]: also - irony personified ... are you drunk ? bc you aren’t at my bar soo ?

[memesandthings]

TEXT MESSAGE STARTERS ! Send one of the prompts below to get a response from my muse.

drunk texts:

( ✉ → sms ) plea se eh elep me im drunk and i dotn know whe re i am

( ✉ → sms ) i fukcing miss yo u

( ✉ → sms ) i look so fuckigjn GOOD

( ✉ → sms ) i csnst stop throwiging up

( ✉ → sms ) fu ck you  for hurting me

( ✉ → sms ) why dotn you ever call me anymore huh

( ✉ → sms ) stop being so fuckigjn borign and coekm to my party

( ✉ → sms ) i dropped my pzziza o nt eh floror im fuckgin pissed

( ✉ → sms ) i j sut left you a 3 mintue long voicemail singing. sorry

( ✉ → sms ) even when i’m durnk ic ant sotp thinking about oyu

hateful texts:

( ✉ → sms ) you’re pathetic

( ✉ → sms ) you make me miserable

( ✉ → sms ) fuck you. delete my number.

( ✉ → sms ) you never meant anything to me, anyway.

( ✉ → sms ) fuck your apologies, you can keep them.

( ✉ → sms ) congrats on always ruining everything

( ✉ → sms ) my life would be so much easier without you.

( ✉ → sms ) and next time you feel like calling me… don’t.

( ✉ → sms ) i don’t want anything to do with you anymore.

( ✉ → sms ) if your goal was to make me hate you, then congratulations. mission accomplished.

misc/random texts:

( ✉ → sms ) i think my neighbor is an alien.

( ✉ → sms ) help me think of a name for my new dog

( ✉ → sms ) sooooo… what was your first impression of me

( ✉ → sms ) should i get pizza or chicken wings for dinner?

( ✉ → sms ) no one’s ever made me feel the way you do.

( ✉ → sms ) i borrowed your weed. hope you don’t mind.

( ✉ → sms ) why do they say drugs are bad when they make you feel so good

( ✉ → sms ) today is the oldest you’ve ever been, but the youngest you’ll ever be again…

( ✉ → sms ) [ File Attached: 001329.jpg ] of all the drunk pictures i have of you, this one is my favorite.

( ✉ → sms ) i used your pics to catfish someone, and since they bought me a laptop… you have a date with them tomorrow.

[sunnysaints]

“I actually had an important question I wanted to pop tonight.” Unaccustomed to being the one asking for favors, Freya ran this conversation in her mind countless times and now has it planned to a tee. “Now I know how that sounds, but no, I’m not getting down on my knee,” she leans forward, letting her right foot brush slightly against Max’s leg. “Not in that way, at least.” After months of consistent hook ups, Freya knows where Max’s sweet spots lie and how to get there. “So I was wondering — are you by any chance free this weekend? There’s a Yayoi Kusama installation launching in Straya and I thought we could go.” There’s an invisible ‘my father’s organizing it and you’ll surely get to meet him’ somewhere there, but Freya knows he’ll pick up on it, and it’s probably best left unsaid.

     Vaguely Max is aware that Freya is actively being charming, her banter is enunciated with practice. She really must want whatever she’s teeing herself up for. “Mm-hm, what’s up?” he fills in during the appropriate pauses, his eyes glued to his phone. “There’s a-- who?” he half laughs, brow furrowing. When his gaze finally finds her face, he can read the expletives she’s conveniently left out. It’s an art thing. It’s a family thing. “Aw, c’mon, Freya. This is a monumentally bad idea, and that’s saying a lot coming from me.” The grimace reads as an obvious no, he leans back in his chair hoping distance will save him. “Dunno if you noticed, but I’m not much of an installation type guy. Raves? For sure. House parties? I could make an exception. Believe me, I’m doing you a favor by not going.”

[sunnysaints]

             ROMY  HAD  LEARNED  ,  through  their  shared  ,  complex  childhood  ,  how  to  expertly  mask  her  feelings  beneath  a  veil  —  it  was  essential  ,  because  if  she  dared  to  show  her  father  what  hurt  ,  it’d  be  the  soft  bruise  on  the  peach  that  he’d  dig  his  nails  into  .  romy  reasons  it’s  her  strongest  skill  in  acting ; pouring  those  latent  emotions  into  something  to  be  commodified  ,  apparently  .  she  never  asked  if  tommy  did  the  same  ,  but  she  could  see  it  in  his  eyes  sometimes  .  however  ,  after  rehab  & disappointment  ,  the  veil  of  protection  is  wearing  thin  .  “ so ,  is this  how  it’s  gonna  be  ,  toms  ?  us  just  dancing  around  each  other ?  ” the  notion  has  her  stomach  in  knots  ,  but  she  presses  on  to  save  face  .  “ maybe  the  bar isn’t ,  but  where  else  am  i  supposed  to  see  you ?  ”

       In lieu of a verbal answer, Tommy merely shrugs, presses his lips into such a thin line he can feel the filter of his cigarette crack under the pressure. He’s feeling similarly. Romy has a way of getting what she wants, always has. From being to end, she’s asked for everything she’s got with insistence inherent to her, all the while Tommy, ever the left hand to her right, resigned to his spot under the bell jar. It’s not as if he wanted anything more from life - he loves the bar dearly - but after years without her, he feels like he’s learned to live that way. “I dunno. We could have a monthly lunch, like every other brother and sister.” Another shrug, he pulls his eyes away from his twin. “--What do you want me to do?”

[sunnysaints]

  “  I’M  SURE  IF  WE  DIG  AROUND  ENOUGH  ,  we’ll  both  find  reasons  to  be.  ”  romy  manages  a  small  ,  albeit  sincere  smile  as  it  appears  that  she isn’t  hallucinating  and  molly  really is here.  their  gift  had  always  been  the  natural  ease  between  them  ,  so  the  pregnant  pauses  &  fragmented  greetings  just  feel  wrong.  “ suppose  you  could  say  that  everything  was  sort  of destined to  happen  from  the  beginning  ,  yeah ?  ” the  bar  had  been  a  second  home  ,  she  knew  how  to  make  a  tequila  sunrise  before  she  learned  how  to  make  eggs.  when  she  recounted  her  childhood  with  molly  before  ,  it  was  a  laughable  idea  —  a  faraway  dream.  but  here  they  were  ,  under  the  perpetually  broken  neon  sign.  “  if  we  ran  a  massage  parlor  ,  i  probably  would’ve  bumped  into  you  sooner.  half - open  robe  and  all. ”

  “  nah,  have  a  seat.  just  be  warned  that  if  you’re  seen  talking  to  me  ,  service might be  a  little  slow.  ”  but  she craved her  familiarity  ,  the  smirk  she  always  wore  & the  natural  high  she  could  bring  upon  someone  as  fucked  as  romy.  “  is  it  lame  that  i’m  actually  happy  to  see  you  ?  ”  this  comes  without  the  bravery  of  eye  contact  ,  unsure  of  where  such  truths  could  lead  them.  instead ,  her  gaze  falls  to  her  hands  ,  drumming  against  the  bartop  to  keep  herself  steady.  “  —-  you  …  out  here  for  work  ?  ”  it’d  be  nice  to  believe  that  she  could  be  motivation  ,  but  philly’s  a  big  city   &  molly’s  addiction  to  work  rivaled  romy’s  addiction  to  …  well,  most things.

    “Nyeh, I’m a fuck of a lot too controlling to relinquish my fate to destiny,” her fingers wiggle with emphasis and her voice is sing-song, lilts melodic and mocking. Besides, to shrug and call it destined means to remove all responsibility, something Romy’s always been a little shaky with much to Molly’s displeasure. And as always, a grin eventually bites into her lips, fingers snapping with regret as she slides into the stool. “Damn, both our misfortune.”

They fall into their pattern neatly, like a key in a lock. The fragrance of familiarity is heady, but there’s a trace of change in it. Things are different, naturally. Molly steels herself against stubbornness and calls it lucky. “Yeah? Guess having your name on the side of the building means fuck all after all,” she shrugs and knocks her knuckles absently on the bartop, hesitating only briefly when a pretty girl, decidedly not Tommy Callahan, takes her order. One iced tea, hold the Long Island. “I should say not - I’m a delight,” toeing the line, Molly bumps her shoulder playfully against Romy’s. “Ah-- no. Kinda. It started out like a vacation, but... well, you know me. What’ve you got going on out here? You... doing all right?”

[fuzings-deactivated20221106]

LARGE  HANDS  GRIP  A  CIGARETTE  THAT  SEEMS  LOST  IN  THEM.  jackson  pats  his  jacket  pockets,  trying  to  find  his  faithful  zippo  lighter.  he  got  it  when  he  was  a  sophmore  in  college.  back  then,  smoking  was  a  forbidden  hobby,  something  that  jack  did  when  he  was  feeling  rebellious.  don’t  smoke,  or  else  your  lungs  are  gonna  be  no  good  when  you  have  to  run  across  a  court.  what  good  did  it  do?  he  hadn’t  smoked,  and  yet,  he  wasn’t  running  much  these  days.  frustration  seeps  in  when  he  realizes  he’s  misplaced  the  lighter,  and  he  turns  to  the  familiar  face  at  the  cafe. “hey,”  his  smile  is  broad,  charming,  even. “you  got  a  light?”  jack  lifts  the  cigarette  between  his  index  and  middle  finger. “i  seem  to  have  forgotten  mine.” ( @sunnysaints​ )

[sunnysaints]

      “Might be the universe willing you to quit,” Gio considers with a diplomatic shrug of her lips. And yet from her purse she procures a Bic, a gas station impulse buy covered in cheap plastic with the image of a naked female fire dancer on the side. Perhaps the universe is willing her to take it up. “Mind if I charge you a drag tax?” she doesn’t habitually smoke cigarettes, mostly just the occasional joint, but a puff of nicotine to go along with her coffee sounds divine.

[spiltwines]

IT  MAY  HAVE  BEEN  PRECARIOUS  but  romy  had  sworn  to  herself  that  she’d  come into  the  bar  everyday  until  she  had  a  conversation  with  tommy  that  lasted  longer  than  ten  minutes   —-  or  if  she  could  make  him  laugh.  he  had  stopped  outright  ignoring  her ,  great  ,  but  he  always  made  himself  a  little  too  busy  to  hang  around.  the  bar  had  a  mild  ,  buzzing  audience  ,  and  romy  volunteered  to  help  out  -  to  no  avail.  and  just  when  the  thinks  life  can’t  get  any  weirder  ,  a  certain  petite  brunette  traipses  in  .

romy  feels  her  chest  tighten  ;  in  her  hollywood  bubble  of  manufactured  friendships  &  pr  relationships  ,  molly  was  the only  person  that  felt  real  -  the  only  person  who  made  her  feel  real  things.  their   eyes  link  ,  and  given  the  many  factors  that  pulled  them  apart  ,  romy  stiffens  &  pushes  the  glass  in  front  of  her  ,  almost  inexplicably  ,  towards  molly  .   “  it’s  sprite  ,  ”  she  sputters  out  immediately  ,  not  wanting  her  to  believe  that  their  break  (  ?  )  was  all  for  nothing  .  “  oh  —-  and  hi .  ” @sunnysaints

[sunnysaints]

      There is absolutely no evidence to prove that Molly has been hoping to bump into Romy, minus the very minuscule fact that she’s walked into a bar with her ex’s last name buzzing neon across the front. In as much truth as Molly may be willing to admit, she had been mostly hoping not to see Romy here, for strictly the most apparent of reasons. A drink is something she’s certainly due for, and to be served by Tommy Callahan would have been a bonus she could consider taking advantage of. 

And yet, with Molly’s luck, there she is. After an appropriate amount of gaping, Molls can’t help but laugh. “Lemme smell your breath.” It’s meant to be a joke, but it falls flat, sad. She remembers having said that in sincerity once or twice before, towards the end when things started getting bad. Her gaze falls, rises, and then falls again. “Hey. Ah-- sorry,” a pause, a chuckle. “I dunno for what... but it seems like I should be,” a smile creeps onto her lips, she shakes her head, willing the weirdness to go away. “Kind of an unfortunate family business to have, innit? Like, why not a massage parlor or a big sound bath?” Another beat of silence and she gestures to the empty stool beside her. “You mind?”

[sunnysaints]

     “ good thing, indeed, ” she enounces, purposefully drawling out each syllable of the sentence as baby blue irises swept over his features with faux skepticism, “ is that because you’re a borderline SOCIOPATH, or are you just now immune to all the metaphorical daggers shot at you on the daily? ”  dimples protrude against her otherwise smooth cheeks as a result of a smirk dancing across matte pink lips.  sierra accepts the offer without a second thought, gingerly plucking it from his fingers and raising it to her lips to take a drag.  with a quirked eyebrow pointedly directed at maxwell, velvet cloud of smoke pours from slightly parted lips before she changes her tone to something a little less taunting, but still the melodic quality remains.  “ soo anyway, … how’s work, darling? ”

       “Why not both?” Sporting a shit-eating smirk and sounding out each syllable as if speaking to a child, Max mimics her to perfection - a skill he’s more than practiced in. “Y’know, it’s a funny fortuity, how the downward spiral of my mental wellness and your presence in my life so completely coincides.” His head cocks, rife with with typical measure of attitude. Attention magnetized back to his phone, Max sighs dramatically. “Arduous, as always. No one knows the difference between a shin dig and a clam bake. It’s horrifying, the amount of stupidity I surround myself with.” There’s a pause before he glances over at her. “Dare I ask how work is for you? Using the term ‘work’ extremely loosely, of course.”