trinibarra:
It’s kind of weird like that, how ambition to best someone involves impressing them, too. Heads says where there’s disappointment there’s expectation. Tails says where there’s disappointment there’s gratification. Call it in the air. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Trinity’s nose scrunches with sarcasm, hard to believe they’ve been at this for months and he’s still got no shame in his furry kink. Sickening. Trinity scoffs, “I get stood up about as much as you get asked out.” Which she presumes is not at all. “You made it though–so we’re still at 0.” She adds, on the very off chance someone’s tried to seduce him in place of drug money. She eyes him getting comfortable. Wonders why he can’t stand normally, like he can’t tell if he’s staying or leaving. Doesn’t know which she prefers. Even standing straight in her boots she’s much shorter, so his lean helps a little. “Had me for a second there but one wife was scary enough, three’s just unrealistic.” Trinity shrugs carelessly with a smirk. She can see the bartender look at them and then away, which normally would piss her off, but she kinda likes it, it’s fucking funny. Technically the bartender is ignoring him. “Wow, you’re like–really good at commanding a room, yeah? You ever actually drink when you go out?” Not at this rate, she thinks. Trinity chokes on a laugh when they’re ignored again. Figures her pretty belt might as well be good for something. She sighs and plops her little red bag on the bar top, stripping her leather trench coat off her shoulders slowly and outstretching an arm to wave. “Hellooooo.” Her smile’s wide, voice as obnoxious as ever, but homeboy is coming over ‘cause the titties are out. “Hello, hi! Hi. Soooo sorry about this one here, he’s a little, woo-hoo.” She whistles, circles her finger by her head. “Anyway, y’all got vodka, right?” Trinity turns to Tigs, leans a little as if the bartender can’t still hear them, “Gave you the chance to pick my poison, coulda had me killed. Shame.” She clicks her tongue. Can’t say she never did anything for him. She turns back to the bartender, name tag reads Guy. “Guy. Very cute, real modern.” Mother doesn’t love him. “Top shelf only. We doing shots.”
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“ easy. bit too early in the fuckin’ night to find out what we like, init? ” but apparently not early enough for her little nose scrunch to make him pause, frown and take a second to figure out whether he liked it or not. features pinch with a hint of surprise all the same, kind of like when you realise you’ve gotten used to a bad smell. “ so, ya don’t get asked out either? ” since that’s the only way the count would be at zero, but he doesn’t trust anyone at gallagher to make any good decisions. exhibit a: he made it to the bar. “ and the fuckin’ pricks you pay to carry your books around don’t fuckin’ count. ” he scoffs in a way he usually does whenever she says something funny, in replace of a laugh and trying to hide his smirk. “ don’t worry, i’ll secure a fourth and send you an invite. make sure you catch that bouquet and all since ya need all the fuckin’ luck you can get. ” little does he know she’s going to have twenty odd men publicly putting themselves forward to be her potential husband. horrifying. eyes on the bartender, he grumbles, “ not really used to bartenders who don’t tend the fuckin’ bar. ” he hears the smile in her voice before he sees it, though his face takes the first hit. the surprise spreads and twists his features with confusion, though the deep grimace makes him look disturbed more than anything. he had the same look on his face when devon played him that disney girl’s version of smells like teen spirit -- a bad cover of a good song. a few seconds pass. the dickhead, who practically ran over, now stands in front of them and tigs is threatening him with a glare that’s too rude to be put into words. then she speaks again, and this time it makes his head turn slowly, almost cautiously, towards her. just in time to catch her calling him woo-hoo. unfortunately, he breaks out into laughter at that, hanging his head in defeat as she talks to him. guy? mother doesn’t love him. cunt. “ and a rum and coke -- triple -- and your cheapest scotch for this one, ” he adds, nodding towards trinity. guy doesn’t look impressed, and starts pouring the shots in front of them. since guy doesn’t want to leave, tigs turns to trinity, deadpan as he picks up one of the shots. “ wait- you allowed to drink with your haemorrhoids meds? ”


















