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@wtchblde said: could you just wait until i'm ready?
she has four shots lined up—two tequila and two vodka. she carefully carries one of each shot to eve, gently placing them down on her vanity. she neglects to tell her that it’s two different liquors.
“nope. drink up, babe. we’re pregaming.”
@wtchblde said: “i did meet some of the most insufferable people but they also met me ”
she reemerged from the kitchen with two drinks in hand. “okay, no, now you have to give me all the details.” she handed one of the drinks over to eve—the pink, fruiter one. she dropped onto the couch beside her with a whiskey.
“did you manage to be more insufferable than them? that would’ve made for a fun night at least.”
@wtchblde ( x )
The laugh she immediately draws from him ( and a real one at that ) betrays any faux offense John could’ve tried to play. “Shit does tend to go to hell when I come ‘round. Not that we need anymore things goin’ wrong. Just a feeling, like some kind of omens in the air. You ever get that?”
@wtchblde said: ❝ What happened to the power? I was having fun! ❞
"i—don’t know?”
putting down her third drink, stevie wandered over to the window with a bit of an unsteady gait and yanked the rickety frame upwards. a rush of cold air blew into eve’s apartment and she stuck her head outside.
"well, it’s not just us. the entire street’s out,” she said, then frowned. in the dark, she could see a tall, not-quite-human shaped thing with glowing red eyes standing in the middle of the street, staring right up at her.
“uh, eve? i think someone’s mad you didn’t invite them over.”
@wtchblde sent: ❝ don’t be sorry. i did it to myself. ❞
"most people would think that should make me more sorry." sorry for her likely, sorry she's hurting, but that also walks dangerously close to pity. and tim knows very few things for certain, but he fucking knows how much worse everything feels when you know that it comes attached with pity.
he's sitting on the couch watching eve with sharp, observant eyes, but he makes no move towards her. just sinks further into the couch. "but i doubt that shit, not many people would do," he gestures towards her, encompassing the danger and the desperation that seems to radiate from her sometimes. "do that to themselves on purpose. i enlisted, didn't mean i asked for this shit. you didn't either."
@wtchblde sent: ❝ you need to sit down. ❞
he shoves off her hand and takes a few steps away, not enough to leave but enough to put space between them while he breathes. "no i don't." he does, he's barely standing, but the sense of an order was enough to make him bristle against her words. besides, it's fucking humiliating to let anyone see this. there's no blood on his skin, no wounds for her to try and patch up.
it's all just in his fucking head. there had been a car back fire followed by yelling outside, someone pissed about whatever the fuck just happened to the car. and tim had leapt out of his seat, pacing and near hyperventilating. on alert for a fight that isn't going to come and unable to make himself accept that there's no danger.
"unless you wanna take some swings at me."
they are not my friends. they almost killed me.
dialogue prompts
Kei had thought the sarcasm in his choice of words was obvious (who were your zesty friends?), but he's been around humans long enough to know they're simple creatures. Although, he doesn't know if this one is human. She'd been holding her own before he intervened—and judging from how intact she looks now, she hadn't needed help anyway. So now he's not only ruined his shirt; he's embarrassed.
"I can see that," he says, flicking his hand as though doing so will shake out the pain. Already, the slice to his forearm is visibly healing—in a way his innocent cotton sleeve will not. "I'm wondering if I should I have let them."
@wtchblde
"Heard that building fire in Brooklyn was 'cause of you and my buddy."
He's drinking a Coke — just a Coke, no whiskey — at the bar and staring at the bartender's back.
"You should be more careful."
