#acedset

[favoriteache]

you waiting for someone else? (for svetlana!)

answer still undecided as her eyes rake his appearance from toes to nose, as if an x-ray of her gaze would be enough to unearth any terrible trait or secret. as it is, she seems satisfied with whatever she gleaned, and her answer comes with a slow nod of her face, a few curls caressing her cheek as she does so: "hm, i suppose not." her heeled foot pushes the stool toward him, as clear an invitation as she is willing to give.

fitting two manicured fingers around the cocktail glass she got for herself a few minutes earlier, she nods at the distinct lack of one in his hands. "i will buy you a drink." while the words seem kind, her tone is as sharp as the smile she gives him. she makes no move to gesture at the bartender. instead, with eyes too discerning, she adds: "make it worth my while, yes?"

[favoriteache]

who gave you permission? (for ilya!)

"ah, permission." he tests the word like you would trade in uncertain waters: a dip of your toe, a contemplating expression, warmth & color of the water taken into consideration, then your leg disappearing beneath the surface. it might be the translation of the word taking time to register, or simply the fact that rage-baiting is an art like no other, one that can't be pressed. "no one. i don't need." & there goes rozanov: soldiering on.

[neverafters]

where did you learn to do that? (for steven!)

steven conklin was always fidgeting, he couldn't sit still. well— no, that was a lie. sitting wasn't a problem. he could be found, at any given moment, strewn unceremoniously across any piece of furniture he could fit on, hours into whatever his video-game-of-the-moment was. sitting wasn't the problem. it was the still part that he had never quite figured out. because one moment he was sitting criss cross apple sauce on the floor and the next he was laid across the chair with his legs dangling over the edge, and a moment later he was standing behind the couch, leaning forward with his elbows anchored on the back for support as he pushed whatever combination of buttons got him out of whatever scenario his character got themselves into. and for some reason, he always had his tongue out.

but he couldn't take a game controller with him everywhere, so he found the next best thing. "oh this?" he drawled so casually, like he hadn't just solved a totally obliterated rubik's cube in about fifteen seconds flat . . . with hardly a glance at the toy. "i taught myself." maybe the other would have believed him, if he wasn't full of shit ninety nine percent of the time. "or maybe i saw it in a tiktok video, i don't know. do you want me to teach you, easy p.z. lemon squeezy?"

[eighthcount]

@acedset sent: sender purposefully antagonizes receiver, hurling insults; " what are you gonna do about it? "

                        “ oh my god.  why are you here?!  no,  genuinely  -  why the fuck are you here, patrick? ”  the brunette’s attention snaps to him,  her jaw tensing.  her blood pressure rises just from being in his presence. he knew how to get under her skin better than anyone else.  of course,  tonight of all nights would be no exception.  surely,   he did not pay for his tickets tonight.  he could not be that petty as to buy front row tickets just to annoy her further.  “ i think you should leave,  ”  she says adamantly.  she knew,  however,   that he would not.  not without some kind of fight  -  he enjoys this far too much,  and unfortunately,  she is one to always feed into it.  perhaps that is why he continues on with his antics.  one by one,  she begins to throw her roses at the man’s head.  “  go.   home.  patrick!  go home! ” it’s almost a plea.  his words cause her to groan, head tilting back as eyes squeeze shut.  “   what am i going to do?  oh,  i wonder.  if you do not want to leave on your own, and you intend to keep pissing me off?  security would be happy to escort you,  ”  elena sighed.  “  now,  will you shut the fuck up and stop talking to me?  there are plenty of beautiful people here.  go occupy yourself.  ”