“Rest in peace? Rest in pieces. Rest in peen-ce,” Lana re-phrased a few times for no real reason, legs limply swinging from her place on the table. Hand cropping up, she nursed a thumb over a drop of liquor clinging to her bottom lip, skin left faintly red.·“I think it’d be kind of hot, getting killed with an axe. Like Red Riding Hood roleplay. The wolf and the huntsman. I throw down onto all fours and start thrashing around, snarling like Remus Lupin. In role! And the Oscar goes to!” More genuine smile tugging on her lips at his compliment, Lana hopped down from the tabletop after touching the tip of her index, once, to the moon in question, almost like she had to clarify it’s existence.·“That’d be kind of cool. I boop it once and activate my X-Men powers. Hair starts, like, floating around, like I’m Jean Grey when she levitates. Eyes red. Or… Wait, that’s a different X-Men. _God. _There’s too many, it stresses me out.” Cracking a lone laugh at his comment, Lana’s dimples roused to life before she cleared her throat, attempting to compose. It was just as well, too, because the curtain rustled and a man with a western style belt buckle stepped in, pecs first.·“Oh? Hulk Hogan, in our midst! Please, take a seat. Enchanté,” Lana randomly quoted, not quite sure who she was even quoting. Pulling a chair back, she hopped down to take a seat, giving a wild waft of her hand for Tommy to hide the flask.·“This is my associate. Um…” trailed off, eyes flitting back to linger on Tommy as she thought of a name.·“Fergus. He’s, like… He’s super good with balls, so. A necessary presence, to enhance… our auras.” She cleared her throat.·“Shall we begin?”
“I always knew you had a kink for beasts, surprised you haven’t got bite marks all over right now. In fact... I’m shocked,” Tommy honestly didn’t know how they had got to this topic, but that happened a lot and he always just brushed it off with a smile. Fanning himself momentarily with his hand, he could feel himself getting warm while sat doing practically nothing. “You know what would have been nice, if they had got someone to fan us and feed us grapes. It’s just we deserve for donating our time to this hard labour job,” he sighed dramatically, leaning over and tapping the moon himself - testing whether or not the powers were real. ·“A shame… I really thought that might work. When will we be struck with lightning like in Misfits and get the powers we’ve always deserved. To activate mine I have to do The Scream before I transform into a demon,” he momentarily mimicked the art piece as if it was the most normal thing in the world. Almost instantly, as the dark haired male entered, Tommy rolled his eyes as they were interrupted to do the job they had signed up for. “You’re in the presences of greatness, for you are meeting the mystical Margo. You can call her Marg, not Marge. She’s not a Simpson,” he said, shaking his head as if the customer had implied she was. was. His introduction of Lana came out as if he had rehearsed, when in fact, he had not. As he slotted the flask under the table, Tommy stifled back a laugh, feigning a cough as a cover. “Indeed, let the stars forever be in your favour,” he quoted, his lips curling into a small smirk as if they were about to ruin this boy’s life.
