avencies asked:
❝ I’m the plans that you made, but fuck all your plans. I’m bored. ❞
@avencies／ the horror and the wild ／ always accepting.
“Yeah?” he replied with a tinge of exasperation lurking behind that single word, because he wants to be understanding but, also?
It’s always so goddamned annoying when people can’t seem to make up their damn minds or just... just cancel for no other reason than just because!
He doesn’t let it show, though, because, again, he’s trying to be understanding even if it’s taking every ounce of his willpower in order to do so. There’s a little twitch in the eye (but he’s pretty sure that that one was due to lack of sleep; he had a long night and every single second of it ate ass-- his ass. and not in the good, “fuck, do it more” way. more of the “my ass is raw and i don’t know how that happened” way.) that happens as he gradually lowers himself, crossing both arms across the other’s counter. Obviously, since they’re in the public -- or, well, whatever constitutes as “public” for black market dealings -- eye, he’s not going to make a big scene.
“C’mere,” came the murmur, not so much a command nor a demand but, rather, a request. “C’mon... I ain’t gonna beat ya up, take yer lunch money, or anythin’ like that. ... Well, not unless yer hankerin’ fer that sorta thing.”
A little humor’s found in his next gestures, with a small smile tugging at, at least, one side of his mouth and slouching of shoulders that should suggest general nonchalance. It’s all water under the bridge, isn’t it? It’s not like he’s managed to work out a deal via third parties that probably would’ve really helped him in the long run--
“Nah, I’m just kiddin’! I’d never do that t’ya.”
--well, actually, that’s kind of what did happen.
Waiting a few more idle seconds, no longer bothering to venture any closer, Christoph blows a large puff of smoke right in front of the shop keep’s view. He’s kind enough to avoid a direct hit but petty enough to make sure it’s able to waft. Sticking his cigar back betwixt his lips, he snickered (it’s an ugly, little noise better suited for a gremlin.) and leaned back.
Through the smog, he’s looking mighty pleased with himself.
“Convince me that yer hurtin’ for m’business and then we’ll see how I’m feelin’, how’s that?”
