Poison Fatale
The newspapers spilled across Azul's desk, a mess of white and black. He glanced at the topmost one and a smile played across his lips. A sudden death of a certain celebrity. How common and expected.
"Not exactly the methods you would use, no?"
"I do not doubt your methods though do I, Schoenheit?"
Vil's laugh was a low purr, "Last name basis again, Ashengrotto? Two can play that game."
He did not miss the subtle challenging look on his lover's face, but like hell he was going to fall into that trap again like the previous other times. Consider it unfair for him that it always worked under Vil's advantage and never his despite how many times he tried to resist it. "Not this time, Vil."
"Caved in already... you disappoint me."
"I'm only letting you win this time because I am feeling quite generous."
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