#antlurrabbit

[fa1lmech]

Maybe she dressed extra cute (and a little skimpy) on purpose to visit Rob at work. Maybe she likes being eye candy, his in particular. Plus, it makes it easier to have someone show her the way to the break room — a technical no-no, she's sure — without having to whip out the De Ville Industries employee card. And, maybe, when there are a few people who recognize her from billboards and video ads, she's a little flattered. Still, they're not important to her in the slightest. Rob is.

She's quiet as she comes from behind, only revealing herself when she slips her arms around his shoulders and squeezes. Quick kiss pressed to his temple before she drops a lunch box on the table.

"I dunno if you brought anythin' today, but I was havin' fun in the kitchen. Figured you deserved a taste."

It's not uncommon for her to visit him at work. After all the recent spike in criminal activity has got him working overtime. What does surprise him is the fancy outfit that she shows up in. It's hard not to oggle her so he settles for a respectful but interested glance over her as she kisses his temple.

"I didn't realize that I forgot to bring anything until now, actually," Robert confesses with a sheepish chuckle. He doesn't even have to open it to know whatever she made him is better than the shitty microwave meals that he's been packing himself. "Did you bribe people with food to be allowed into the break room too?" Although visitors to the office are fairly common, the break room is a strictly no guests zone. It's a little rule he's opting to ignore in favor of further savoring her company. "Thank you. Thank you, from my stomach to my heart. I think I was getting a little hangry."

[electrok1ll]

Now, that was rude.

It's a harmless little pranking, his fingertips brushing against her hair with just enough charge to make it stand up, as if he just rubbed her hair with a balloon. It's not the most mature what to get her attention but sometimes he just feels like being a little silly (if not a little annoying as well). He has a level of control over the electricity that even the most experience surgeon would be envious. Letting the charge fade, he pulls his hand back and lets her hair fall back into its resting, normal state. He's never been taught to smile but the corners of his lips twitch like a suppressed but ever present instinct.

[bats1gnals]

"I would believe that you're fine, but you have a goddamn knife sticking out of your leg, so," -> Duke

Adrenaline is one hell of a drug, especially when coming back from an action packed patrol. He's not sure why there was such a sudden spike in crime-- maybe all of the recent rain has got people feeling cooped up and anxious, like they really need to get out and do something? Speaking of something, now that he's in a safe location he needs to pull the knife out of his leg and stitch it up. "At least it is a small knife this time."

[bats1gnals]

[ 27. ] violet wipes the blood from tim's face, murmuring, "let's get you cleaned up." -> Sisterly vibes mayhaps?

Tim feels floaty, like his soul is not properly tethered to his body. His head feels fluffy, like someone stuffed it with clouds. This is hardly the first time he's dissociated before. However ,this is the first time he's been seriously hurt in a long time. His domino mask has already been peeled off his face, a warm washcloth gently tapping at his skin to clean it in a way that aggravated his injuries. Slowly blinking as his brain churns, struggling to process her words, there's an audible pause between her words and his response. "Thank you."

[il-mostrc]

The Rose and Revelry was a den of iniquity wrapped in decadence, its very name a sly nod to the dual nature of indulgence and the thorns it inevitably bore. The establishment was a place that would cause even the most liberal of churchmen to bristle with righteous indignation, were they ever so unfortunate as to find themselves within its intoxicating grasp. Its every facet, from the sultry merchandise that lined its walls to the beguiling women who ensnared patrons with smiles as sweet as honey yet sharp as daggers, screamed of temptation.

It was here that Hannibal found himself, not drawn by desire but by duty--a duty disguised as business, his solemn purpose etched onto his features like a stoic mask. His destination was a shadowed booth nestled in the far recesses, away from prying eyes yet near enough to observe the dance of depravity that unfolded before him. As he requested a sampling of the house's modest wine selection, one could see the slight downturn at the corners of his lips when faced with their inability to meet his refined palate's expectations. In contrast, the bar menu was an affront he could hardly bear to consider--greasy sustenance unworthy of his discernment.

In another setting, Hannibal might have been mistaken for a man out for an evening of high society or an opera's intermission. His attire, an immaculate suit free from any overt hints of clerical appointment, stood to reflect his impeccable taste. Yet here, within this den known too fondly by those who revelled in vices shunned by daylight, he appeared like a misplaced puzzle piece. Each thread of silk a declaration of his outsider status. Despite being under orders from the church to unearth whispers concerning one linked intimately with a certain town's sordid secrets, he lacked any insignia to denote such ecclesiastical allegiance.

He could smell all the women's perfumes, their hairspray, along with the distinct stench of alcohol-- perhaps spilled in a corner or not quite cleaned up on one of the tables. Perhaps his overly dressed outfit managed to pull the attention of a worker there.

❝ Did you come by for a reason, or did you just want some company?❞ @antlurabbit says.

Hannibal's eyes switch from the text on the menu to the woman now leaning over with her palms spread across the grain of the tabletop. "Is it the company that people come here for.. and not the food?" His response came with intentional slowness, accompanied by a knowing smile that tugged at his lips like marionette strings pulled taut.