Dxsole - Tumblr Posts

                Seeing    him    like    this    makes    her    heart    break.    Were    she    able    to    express    anything    other    than    an    emotionless    face,    that    would    be    obvious.    Holly    would    take    the    bottle    from    him    and    set    it    down    gently,    to    bring    him    in    and    lay    his    head    on    her    chest    and    to    pat    at    him,    shushing.    To    tell    him    everything    is    all    right,    that    she's    here    and    she    won't    be    going    anywhere    ever    again.    But    that    dream    is    short    lived.

                Holly    now    wonders    if    it    was    Nick's    doing,    getting    him    to    drink.    Of    course    Holly    didn't    tell    him    about    it.    It    was    told    in    confidence    that    it    wouldn't    leave    the    room,    and    it    never    did.    But    she    wonders    how    it    has    taken    an    affect    on    him.    That    won't    do,    she'll    have    to    sober    him    up.

                "    Ich    habe    dich    auch    vermisst.    "    She    said.    Though    his    eyes    are    obstructed    by    his    hands.    When    they    come    into    view    once    more,    she    brings    her    hands    up    to    sign,    in    her    god    awful    sign    language    (    for    beig    a    polyglot,    she    was    never    able    to    get    a    full    grasp    on    sign    language    )    something    akin    to    '    miss    you    '.

                Lips    pull    into    a    tight    line,    pale    scar    across    the    flesh    of    her    neck    as    she    swallows.    She's    becoming    increasingly    aware    of    her    standing    out    in    the    open    where    their    neighbors    could    see.    Holly    now    wonders    if    the    neighbors    tried    to    help    him.    Holly    always    did    with    them...    the    woman    hoped    they    could    only    return    the    favor,    even    if    it    wouldn't    ease    the    pain    he    had    gone    through    completely.

                "    Did    you    throw    out    my    clothes    ??    "    She    asks.    This    tie    dye    shirt    and    bright    pink    shorts    were    hardly    her    style.    Especially    not    one    with    profanity    in    big    block    white    letters    across    her    chest.    God    she    hopes    not.    After    having    spent    all    that    time    with    hardly    anything    on    and    then    to    this    after    god    knows    how    long,    she's    dying    to    get    back    into    some    sort    of    normalcy.    Normal    clothes,    normal    house,    normal    husband,    normal    fucking    life.

                She'll    never    be    normal    again.

Hugo hesitated the first time Nick offered him a drink. He vaguely remembers staring at the bottle, noting it was the same brand of whiskey Holly liked. Despite never drinking it himself, he had remembered because regardless of his feelings, she liked it.

Nick wouldn't have known. He doesn't think Holly would have told him about...everything. That was a secret he told only to her in the dark one night. A secret that died with her...but what did he have to lose now? He had always worried that if he ever did partake, he would become like his mother; cruel and abusive. And he couldn't take the chance of becoming someone he wasn't and hurting her. Not her.

He had accepted because if he did become cold-hearted, who would blame him? If he became belligerent, who would shame him? For all he's suffered, the world owed him something.

What happened after was almost comical— he grew silent. He grew numb. Instead of an outpouring of those difficult emotions he's been grappling with, it seemed to lock it all away. Nick had cried and Hugo had stared at the ground between their feet where his tears fell, noting how his own eyes watered but would never spill over. Didi had locked herself in a room, refusing to speak to anyone, the occasional sound of shattering glass being heard through the door.

When she had finally emerged, she would just look at him— and he knew what she was thinking behind those dull eyes. He had always been wary of her, what with her temper and her violence...she seemed unstable but with how she looked at him then, he thinks that she was just hurt. Now he felt the same hurt.

And they both had the same idea. An awful, terrible idea. One that Hugo would have never even considered...up until the moment he saw Holly on the slab.

He didn't really do it for Holly. Vengeance wouldn't bring her back and he knew that even with the grief and the numbness...but it could be stopped. A good life was lost and it felt necessary to take another to rectify it. Maybe so they could all sleep better at night. Maybe because they would know that the monster that haunted their nightmares would no longer be around.

Hugo doesn't think back to what he did. It was done, like the many he killed during his service. If anything, it was the one noble murder he's ever committed, if such a thing made sense. Well, none of it made sense, did it? Because they still hurt in the end. It hadn't really gotten better.

So he continued to drink, if only to dull his senses. He didn't need to think about how he wasn't there for her. He didn't need to think about what happened to her. How scared she must have been—

The knock doesn't reach him. Not the first nor the second time/ No, what catches him is the movement— he was in the dark now, no lights on, curtains closed, not a speck of sunlight breaching his space regardless of the brightness outside.

Except for the light that poured in from the glass panes in the door. It was an old-fashioned sort of thing, but a door was a door. He never really thought of changing it. And now someone's head was bobbing about, obscuring the only light he had.

He answers only so he could ask them to leave. Nick would have texted first. Didi would have snuck herself in somehow. Anyone else had enough good sense to leave him be.

Once again, he's left silent. For a brief moment, he doesn't think she's real. More like...something to taunt him with. A trick of the eye, a drunken hallucination, something his brain wants him to see, to force him to remember.

But she speaks and— well, if he had dreamed her up, he might have heard her. He can still recall what a woman's voice sounds like. Maybe it wouldn't be hers, but he could imagine. He could have heard it and considered it a dream.

But he can't. And that's why he doesn't think it's a dream. The back of his hand presses into his mouth and his nose as he feels his eyes water once more, fingers still clutching onto the bottle for dear life. If someone were to tell him he'd get another chance to see her again, he would have assumed he would feel elated. That he'd cherish that moment for as long as he lived. Now, with her in front of him again, seemingly alive, he could only feel shame.

"I thought you were—" She must know what he thought. "I didn't—" He didn't save her. He hadn't been there. And Hugo didn't think he'd ever be redeemed for that.

There's a sniff, rough hands rubbing at his face harshly, trying to push those tears away. Maybe he didn't deserve this second chance. Maybe this all was a dream. Maybe...there are so many maybes, but what he knows is that right now, he could see her. Maybe he won't tomorrow. Maybe not in an hour. But right now he could.

Scarred lips pull into the smallest of smiles, the smallest gesture of joy he's been able to express in a year. "...Ich habe dich vermisst, Mausbär."

@dxsole asked: “i’ll take care of you.” // from Didi!

                The    man,    usually    full    of    jokes    and    sarcasm,    has    nothing    to    say.    He    thinks    about    it    for    once,    a    filter    that    only    makes    itself    known    now.    It    seems    to    prove    useful    as    he    doesn't    yell    or    tell    her    to    get    out-    both    things    he    would    have    done    had    she    of    been    anyone    else.

                Instead,    he    swallows,    eyes    finding    the    marble    countertop    of    his    kitchen.    Nick    takes    a    sip    of    the    amber    liquid    in    his    glass.    A    bump    of    cocaine    sounds    lovely    right    about    now,    he    think    he    just    might.

                "    You    don't    want    that    baggage,    Didi.    "    He    says,    turning.    He    wants    to    walk    out,    but    he    stops    in    his    tracks...    he    wants    her    to    counteract    that.    He    never    has    one    who    actually    wants    to    take    care    of    him.    It    always    comes    with    something...    he    has    a    feeling    that's    what    this    is.  

@dxsole asked: “So, I was thinking if we’re going to have dinner alone, we could have it alone together.” // form Didi! She gotta,,,cook for him so he can se what she's learned jfvbdj

                Nick    nods,    looking    up    from    the    piece    of    paper    in    his    hand.    Usually    his    nights    are    spent    alone    anyways,    with    a    bottle    of    whiskey    in    his    hand...    after    he's    kicked    out    the    person    he's    brought    home.    Half    the    time    it's    just    cocaine    for    dinner.

                "    Sure.    Use    whatever    I    got.    "    It's    not    much,    really.    His    fridge    is    probably    never    full    of    actual    food.    "    Lemme    know    if    you    need    somethin'    else,    guess    we    could    order    it.    Or    take    a    little    field    trip.    "

                Legs    spread,    hands    rest    between    them    as    digits    grip    at    the    cold    can.    The    sweat    from    the    metal    coated    his    skin.    He    hears    her    rummaging    around,    hopefully    she    settles    on    something    she    won't    complain    about.    He's    about    two    seconds    away    from    giving    her    his    black    card    and    telling    her    to    get    out    of    his    hair.    She'd    fucking    love    that,    wouldn't    she    ??

                As    he's    lost    in    thought,    legs    suddenly    nudge    against    his    hands,    and    he    lifts    them    to    make    way    for    the    slender    apendages.

                The    inquiry    has    him    cocking    a    brow,    lip    curling    up    as    he    inhales.    He    pulls    his    mouth    into    a    tight    line    shortly    there    after.    He    can't    help    but    to    swallow    as    his    fingers    find    a    thread    at    the    seem    of    her    pants.

                "    No.    "    He    says.    Short,    sweet,    to    the    point.    He    can't    go    around    telling    his    business    to    everyone.    Hell,    Holly    doesn't    even    know.

"Well, Jim Jones can go to hell." She doesn't know who Jim Jones is and she doesn't want to know. Not if his idea of a good time was apparently drinking this swill.

Unlike Nick, Didi had been brought up with the finer things. She had an expensive palette, courtesy of her father and his vintage wine collection and his delicacies and his grand furnishings. Thinking back on it, some of those bottles were worth more than her life, she's sure of it. "Oh, you're so sentimental." Didi coos, nose still a bit wrinkled as that sour taste lingered on her tongue. "I was born to be luxurious; silk, pearls, aged rum, La Perla—"

Expensive shit was promising. She's confident she could put something together with whatever she can scavenge...or at the very least there could be a nice bottle of bourbon she can curl up with in there.

He pats her reassuredly and that earns him a smile. It truly didn't take much to make her happy— making shopping lists was one of her favorite pastimes, after all. "Hm, good. I don't need much," She needed a full bar. "just the essentials, hm."

She slips out of her perch to rummage through the cupboard. It takes her some time, settling on just the right glass, pouring out the preferred tequila she did find, and grabbing the near-empty carton of orange juice she had left in the fridge (she liked making breakfast and you can't have morning mimosas without it) to mix. Now with something a little more refreshing, she focuses on the task at hand.

"Hm, you know, you're going to have to tell me what else you do aside pay my way, drink awful beer, and sit around being all sexy and brooding all day." She settles herself by his side this time, stretching her legs out over his lap. She thinks it might make him more willing to talk if he's got something pretty to look at. "As grateful as I am, it's all a little mysterious, hm."

                If    she    weren't    so    tired    there'd    be    a    smile    pressed    to    her    lips.    Holly    inhales,    leans    over    to    turn    on    the    lamp    that    sat    on    their    bedside    table.    Holly    turns    back    to    him,    only    to    speak    once    more.

                "    Water,    please.    Cold.    Really    cold.    "    Fingers    accompany    her    in    broken    ASL.    If    she    focused    hard    enough,    she    could    get    a    real    sentence    out,    but    this    late    at    night    with    the    nightmare    still    fresh    in    her    memory,    it's    not    as    good    as    it    could    be.

Hugo doesn't want to press— he didn't think she'd like hearing about his nightmares, so there seemed little use in prying into hers. Even if he was curious. Even if he worried.

But she hugged him and he decided that he'd ask later. Another time maybe, when it was not so dark and the fear was still only right behind her. For now, he just hugs back, nuzzling against her hair. He didn't mind the clamminess only because it was her.

Lips are harder to decipher in the dimness but a little tilt of his head and a, "Say again?" should get her to repeat. "I'll get you whatever you'd like."

@dxsole asked: ‘ i wanna get nails that i can become catwoman with . i wanna like … fight crime with them . you know what i mean ? … catwoman ! ’ // from Didi and she's not even drunk, she's just passionate about cats and fighting

                "    You    gotta    be    in    shape    to    fight    crime,    you    know    that    right    ??    "    Brows    raise    as    he    watches    her.    He    really    needs    to    think    before    he    opens    up    his    damn    mouth.

                "    Glad    you're    passionate    about    that    though.    You    want    my    card    ??    Go    get    your    nails    done,    sweetheart.    "  

                Out    of    everyone    he    could    have    chose,    it    was    her.    Maybe    it    was    the    way    that    she    was    dressed.    Holly    hardly    belonged    in    a    place    like    this,    her    light    pink,    frilly    dress    didn't    match    the    testosterone    of    the    room.    She    clearly    has    odd    taste    in    entertainment    for    someone    who    looks    like    her.

                A    blush    floods    across    her    face,    obvious    even    under    the    fading    rouge    she's    dusted    on    hours    ago    as    her    cheeks    raise    with    a    smile.    A    beer    can    rests    idly    in    her    hand.

                "    You    gotta    take    me    out    for    a    drink    first,    Killer.    Maybe    then.    "    The    words    slip    out    faster    than    she    can    even    process    them    in    her    head    fully.    Embarrassed,    her    brows    raise    as    she    laughs,    raising    the    can    to    her    lips    to    take    a    sip    to    mask    the    obvious.

Donny was still a little sore from his last match— his lip was split and the side of his face was bruised but healing. It would look shocking to anyone who didn't know him well, but this was typical for Donny.

Plus it was all part of being a boxer. Granted, he liked walking away a little more unscathed than this but that last guy was a monster. Not better than Donny, apparently, but enough to remind him to guard his face a little better next time.

"I'm gettin' not gonna hook up vibes." He comments, sipping at his water bottle before giving them a teasing smile— actually, he may not be teasing, he generally can't keep it in his pants.

                "    I    do.    "    He    has    half    a    thought    of    pulling    the    gun    out    of    the    secret    little    hidey    spot    he    had    in    the    coffee    table    in    front    of    him.    Pulling    it    out    and    pointing    it    towards    her-    but    that    thought    was    burried    as    soon    as    it    became    a    full    idea.    Now,    had    he    been    four    lines    in,    maybe    he    would    have    done    it.    But    he's    only    two.    God,    this    man    needs    help.

                "    Yeah    but    if    you're    too    slow    he'll    fuck    you    up.    Like    I    tell    Holly,    you    just    gotta    be    quicker    than    them,    baby,    that's    all    there    is    to    it.    "    Fingers    do    pull    out    the    not    so    secret    drawer    in    the    table    to    wrap    around    a    box,    and    he    sets    it    on    the    wood.    Fingers    dig    through    it    to    pull    out    a    container    full    of    herb.

                "    Just    don't    get    yourself    in    trouble,    I    really    don't    wanna    have    to    face    your    dad.    "    He    says,    rolling    up    a    joint.    He    places    it    between    his    lips.    "    That    man    hates    me.    "

The drink she's sipping on his lowered, Nick suddenly gaining her full attention. She squints at him.

"I'll have to disagree with that, hm." Didi starts, looking down at her nails— already manicured, but could certainly be a bit more pointy if she wanted to emulate Catwoman. "If I had claws, it really wouldn't matter what shape I'm in. If a crime was occurring and I was in front of the suspect all I'd have to do is," Hand distorts into a little claw, wrist twisting with the motion. "Grab that fucker by the nuts and rip them off." Her eyes are sort of wide and wild for that brief moment the words are muttered through clenched teeth.

Just as quickly as she snarled, she was back to sipping her drink, poised as always. "There are plenty of ways to hurt someone without needing to be physically strong. You should know that Nick."

                The    only    reason    he    hasn't    is    because    when    he    was    growing    up,    those    kinds    of    markets    were    too    expensive.    His    parents    were    too    high    to    even    fix    him    and    his    siblings    food,    and    it    was    his    responsibility    at    twelve    years    old    to    take    care    of    his    baby    sister    and    baby    brother.    Now    he    wasn't    a    chef...    most    nights    it    was    frozen    hot    pockets    he    nabbed    from    the    7/11    or    expired    sandwiches    from    the    bodega    down    the    street.    But    he    did    what    he    could.

                Now    that    he's    older    and    has    the    money    for    it,    he    had    someone    else    do    it.    Why    would    he    when    he    could    just    pay    for    it    ??    Sure,    he    does    enjoy    the    finer    things    in    life...    fuck,    when    in    New    York    he    still    goes    to    that    very    same    bodega,    but    the    expensive    French    food    he    had    was    made    in    a    restaurant.    Anything    he    cooked    himself    wasn't    that    fancy,    either.

                Nickolas    exhales    through    his    nose,    seemingly    annoyed    (    he    really    isn't    ).    He    tosses    the    paper    on    the    counter,    fingers    reach    for    his    glass    and    he    finishes    the    rest    of    its    contents    before    he    pushes    himself    away    from    the    island    in    his    kitchen.

                "    Alright,    fine...    "    He    says.    Hands    run    through    his    slightly    disheveled    hair.    "    Gimme    a    minute,    lemme    go    get    dressed.    "

She's already grabbing her purse. "Field trip." Because Nick is..well, he's lovely but then you get to his...let's call it enthusiasm for life and you hit a brick wall.

Has he ever been to the market? Smelled fresh-cut peppers? Has he ever squeezed a fresh baguette to hear the crackle? Didi was not one to enjoy the simple things in life what with her expensive tastes and all, but food was an entirely different story. She's currently vibrating at the thought of making a full meal because she's not in a hotel— oh no, she has access to a FULL kitchen.

"I promise, it'll be a meal you won't forget, hm. Come with me." She stands in the doorway, jacket and purse in hand, bouncing on her toes. "Please."

                Nick    sighs,    shoulders    rising    and    falling    with    the    inhale    and    exhale.    His    nostrils    flare    in    annoyance.    Tongue    runs    across    pearly    whites    as    he    sucks    on    his    teeth.    He's    trying    to    get    rid    of    her,    it's    what    he    does.    Destroys    any    relationship    he's    ever    had.    Just    ask    his    ex    wife    and    her    kid.    He'd    be    lying    if    he    said    he    didn't    miss    them.

                "    No,    Didi,    I    don't    think    we    are.    "    He    wants    to    be    good    with    someone,    but    it    was    just    himself    asking    for    too    much.    Although,    he    will    admit,    she's    better    than    those    early    twnty    year    olds    who    just    hang    around    him    for    money.    It's    his    fatal    flaw,    he    gives    and    gives    and    gives    because    he    has    the    means    to    do    so    now,    but    it's    attracted    the    wrong    people.    Only    two    seem    to    actually    give    a    fuck.

                "    Didi    you're    gonna    get    killed    if    you    stick    around.    "    He    admits,    fingers    lifting    the    cup    to    his    lips,    taking    a    sip.    "    And    you    gotta    deal    with    me.    I'm    not    the    person    you    think    I    am.    "

Allowing someone like Didi to care for you felt like a bad idea.

She's been told that before, from those that were softer than Nick, softer than her, their throats bent back and open for her to pull apart and bite into— Didi carried herself like she had claws and that if you dared to expose yourself she'd dig them right in.

Nick can take it though, she thinks. The messiness. The sting. The bite. And she would do her best not to take it for granted. To hold him like some precious thing in her grasp—

You don't want— She doesn't even need to hear the rest.

Tongue clucks. "Nick...Nicky, hm." Didi steps closer and it's eerily predatorial despite the height difference. "Don't you ever tell me what I do or do not want again. Do you understand me?" Her smile says she's not mad but the brightness in her eyes says something different.

"Let me." Because she wants to. And Didi is a little too used to getting what she wants. "We're good together, non?" They're nearly nose to nose now, her head tilting so innocently as she looks up at him. "I can take care of you— what are you so afraid of, hm?"

                "    Oh,    a    gentleman    ??    Hmmm-    "    Pink    lips    purse,    head    tilts    as    eyes    find    something,    anything    but    his    eyes    for    a    moment.    Smile    never    falters    even    in    mock    thought.    A    red    nail    taps    against    the    aluminum    in    hand.    It's    not    a    very    long    thought,    though,    as    a    moment    later    she's    back    to    casting    her    gaze    over    him.    As    if    she    hadn't    made    her    mind    up    the    moment    those    words    came    out    of    his    mouth.

                "    Alright.    "    Shoulders    shrug    in    a    'fuck    it    why    not    ??'    manner.    Most    is    every    action    she    makes,    lately.    Because    she    needs    to    live    a    little.    Although    her    roommate    would    object    and    say    'not    with    strangers',    though,    he    truly    seems    harmless    enough.

                "    There's    a    bar    right    down    the    street.    "    Unfortunately    she    knows    it    all    too    well.

Donny thought it was cute. Unexpected. This tiny little woman in her pink frock, cheering on the boxers.

A lot of people have told him it was unnecessarily dangerous and that people today were just a little too interested in violence and bloodshed. Donny thought they could shove that sentiment up their asses. It's a sport, through and through. And he was the best.

Best in Detroit, at least. "Killer? Aw, c'mon, I'm harmless." Not in the ring he isn't. "Plus, y'know they call me Babyface." Mainly because he's one of the youngest boxers at this particular gym as well as the fact everyone thinks he's such a pretty boy.

"Lemme take ya out fer a drink then? I'll be a gentleman, promise."

                "    My    guy,    fun    time    started    when    you    showed    up.    "

                Holly    slides    in,    shutting    the    door    as    she's    settled.    Pink    bag    is    sat    neatly    on    her    lap.    Philo,    ever    the    one    to    make    sure    she    has    what    she    needs.    Damn,    if    only    everyone    could    be    as    kind    as    him-    which    is    hilarious    considering    his    occupation.    To    be    fair    she    wasn't    sure    what    he    did,    but    she    knew    it    wasn't    anything    legal    if    he's    been    hanging    around    Nick    more    often.

                Hips    shift,    legs    strech    and    she    pulls    out    her    phone.    Of    course    she's    googling    the    food    truck    he    mentioned,    she    wants    to    look    at    the    damn    menu.    Can    you    blame    her    for    having    anxiety    about    it    ??    Well,    when    you've    got    Philo    as    a    friend,    what    is    there    to    have    anxiety    about    ??

                "    Man,    I    gotta    ask,    because    I    have    never    seen    you    without    that    thing    and    I've    never    asked    before.    Do    you    always    wear    that    mask    ??    I    can't    imagine    it's    very    comfortable.    "    Fingers    tap    at    the    lit    up    screen.

"I want to!" Despite his appearance, Philo was honestly a very kind person. All he wanted was to make friends and have a nice time with them— it seemed a little counterproductive, what with his job and all, but Holly didn't seem to mind. "Plus, you're right— it's always a good time for fries."

And now Philo had a good excuse to eat more vegetables. It's not like he doesn't like more plant-based meals, but with his odd hours, late-night food trucks and drive-thrus are his best friends.

"Oh!" Now, that was right up his alley. Period drama PLUS zombies? He's in.

"I think I like all the Mr. Darcy's...there's something about a, um... an idiot who can't express his feelings that really gets me going." Philo pats the seat next to him again. "Hop in! Fun time starts now!"

                She    is    the    least    of    his    worries.    Didi    taking    him    out    in    his    sleep    might    alieviate    those    worries,    actually.    It    might    make    things    better.    He's    already    got    a    will,    all    his    money    is    divided    amongst    his    siblings,    Holly,    and    his    ex    wife's    daughter.    If    this    woman    stuck    around,    she    might    even    get    a    cut.    Would    he    ever    tell    her    ??    No,    that'd    be    insentive.

                Fingers    flick    on    the    lighter,    inhaling    on    the    joint,    smoke    filling    his    lungs    and    he    cant    help    but    to    sigh    at    the    feeling,    like    balm    to    a    burn.

                "    Who    needs    compliments    when    you've    got    a    face    like    this    ??    "    He    points    to    himself,    unfortunately,    though    he's    nice    enough    to    extend    his    hand,    the    joint    resting    between    fingers    as    he    offers    it    to    the    woman.    "    Whatever,    just    take    the    card,    go    do    whatever    you    want,    just    don't    lose    it.    "

That would certainly pacify her but also serve to make her insufferable whenever it was put away. She's never cared for guns being pointed at her face in a nonsexual way.

"Then I'll be quick, hm. There. Does that make you feel better? God, first you tell me I'm out of shape and then you say I'm slow— you've got to work on your compliments Nick." And sleep with one eye open, lest she does get it into her head to maul him in the middle of the night.

"Fuck him." She watches him work— or really, she's staring in the midground, not focused, just annoyed that Jasper's been brought up. Just the mention made her puff up like an angry bird. "He doesn't care about me, Nick. So let him hate you— I hate him back."

                Nick's    caught    off    guard    by    the    hug-    it's    not    that    he    hates    hugs,    he's    Itallian,    for    Christ's    sake,    they    practically    invented    hugging.    No,    he    just    wasn't    expecting    it    from    this    man.    Though,    really,    should    he    have    been    ??

                He    lets    out    a    small    chuckle,    a    small    smile    spreading    across    his    lips    as    cheeks    raise    just    slightly.    A    hand    presses    to    the    taller's    arm.    A    small    pat    is    placed    there.    Nickolas    shakes    his    head    at...    well    everything    he    just    fucking    said.

                "    Oh,    is    that    what    it    is    ??    I    always    thought    you    were    a    Deadpool    fan.    "    He    says.    A    small    snicker    to    himself    as    he    reels    back    the    hand.    "    No,    I    don't    need    anything    smuggled    in,    I    need    you    to    take    care    of    someone.    "    Long    gone    are    the    days    of    Nick    targeting    people    himself.    He    has    money    now,    he    can    pay    other    people    to    do    it    for    him.

@kingrusso | Wanted to meet Philo!

"Nick!" It's said with a boisterous laugh as Philo immediately drops decorum and races up to his friend, catching him in hug— Philo was a hugger. Couldn't help it. He had a lot of love to give.

"Aw, I've missed you, man! Sorry I haven't called— work has been a nightmare. I had to kill some dude who knew Krav Maga and it was a pain in the ass. And I felt really bad about it because he probably did, like, years of training only to get his skull split open by me throwing a TV at his head."

He shakes the thought from his head. "So what d'you need, man? You know I'm good for it; you need me to smuggle something? Maybe an exotic animal friend for one of your lil' senoritas?" Nick can't see it but Philo's eyebrows are wagging.

"You should get her a sugar glider. They're sooo cute. And a barrel of sugar gliders is way more fun than a barrel of monkeys." He nods. "Mainly because sugar gliders won't try and rip your face off."

Philo's quiet for a moment before pointing to his mask. "That's not...what happened to me by the way. I just like masks— just to clarify."

                Holly    watches    him    process    it,    watches    him    try    to    wrap    his    head    around    it    all.    It    took    her    a    while,    too.    Fuck,    she's    still    trying    to    figure    it    all    out.    Why    her    ??    Why    is    she    alive    again    ??    Holly    remembers    dying,    very    explicitly.    How    the    blade    felt    cutting    into    her    pale    flesh    and    losing    all    the    blood    she    fucking    had    as    he    watched    and    laughed.    But    she    doesn't    want    to    remember.    She    would    much    rather    forget    everything    that    she    could.

                Heart    doesn't    beat,    chest    doesn't    rise    with    a    breath,    her    eyes    are    pale    and    skin    much    lighter    than    before.    She's    sure,    aside    from    the    obvious,    that    her    appearence    is    a    shock    to    him    as    well.    It    was    enough    to    question    her    ability    to    walk.    She'd    love    that,    to    be    wrapped    up    in    his    big    strong    arms,    like    their    first    kiss,    like    the    first    night    they    made    love,    like    he    always    had    when    she    wasn't    feeling    great.    But    something    tells    her    to    stop.    Maybe    it's    her    own    guilt    eating    her    alive.

                When    he    reaches    out    for    her    hand,    she    ignore    the    alarms    ringing    within    her    head,    fingers    grazing    against    his.    She    shakes,    the    one    thing    her    body    still    seems    to    do    in    response.    Holly    hadn't    been    touched    in    a    kind    and    gentle    way    in    a    year.    It    makes    her    nervous.    Though,    after    that    moment,    a    long,    long    ten    or    so    seconds,    she    withdraws    herself,    eyes    flicking    upwards    to    find    his    again.

                "    Good,    I    need    t'change.    "    She    says,    and    moves    past    him    into    the    door.

                Holly    still    remembers    the    home    well.    The    pictures    of    them    still    remained    up,    the    ones    she    hanged,    the    ones    she    loved    so    much.    It's    as    if    she's    on    an    eveneing    stroll    down    the    hall    to    their    bedroom,    taking    her    time    (    but    not    too    long    ).    Hand    reaches    for    the    knob    to    their    door    and    she    twists    it    open.

                Fingers    find    the    drawers,    pulling    them    open    and    retrieving    various    items    to    make    up    her    outfit.    It's    not    her    favorite,    no.    It's    the    same    outfit    she    always    had    worn    when    she    was    insecure,    didn't    want    to    be    noticed.    Wanted    to    blend    in    as    if    she    didn't    exist.    She    begins    to    strip    immediately.    Thank    god    the    bruises    had    been    healed    long    ago,    though    the    scars    still    remain.

There's fear mixed into the indescribable joy he feels; a fear she'll disappear within the span of a blink. That he'll look away for a moment only to prove it was all a trick. That she'll be gone the very second he lets his guard down.

When he finally breathes again, not even noticing how he'd been holding it in since she walked through the threshold, he thought it was probably best to...to act. To make the most of whatever this was. If she's still there in an hour, it's a blessing. If she stayed until tomorrow, he'd be the happiest man alive.

He doesn't even know what he'd do with himself if she stayed any longer.

Miss you. There's a choked laugh and he nods, eyes crinkling up as he smiles. She missed him. She understood the time apart— he didn't know what that meant. What her time...gone meant.

Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it was just time apart. Another tragedy they had to only momentarily live through.

"I kept them." Of course he did. Neatly folded in her side of the dressers. Perfectly pressed in the closet. He hadn't wanted to let go yet. Even if he ever got to the point of thinking he should move on, he wasn't sure if he'd let himself. Like he had to keep them there to remind him. Remember how you were happy with her? Don't forget the happiness.

Gaze falls on what she was currently wearing— Hugo's not sure how he blocked it all out, but he's sure he can find her more suitable attire—

Scar.

He nods, sudden and furious, not being able to look at it for longer than a second. "Are you...?" A hand is held out for her, gently and politely asking her to take his hand again. Just like the first time he asked. "Can you walk alright?" She got here somehow, hadn't she? It may be a stupid question, but maybe he just wanted an excuse to hold her, pick her up, cradle her into his chest until he was sure she was real again.

                Glass    presses    to    his    lip    as    his    hand    is    tucked    under    his    arm,    folded    across    his    chest.    Pupils    watch    as    she    moves,    getting    herself    a    glass    then    sitting    on    the    couch.    Of    course    his    eyes    linger    a    little    too    long    at    her    thighs.    He    lets    out    another    heavy    sigh    before    he    sets    the    cup    on    the    coffee    table,    taking    a    seat    on    the    couch    opposite    of    her.    Face    finds    a    home    in    his    hands.

                Nickolas    is    good    at    getting    rid    of    women    if    he    truly    wants    them    gone.    But    this,    this    is    like    an    honors    class    at    a    four    year    college.

                "    Dick.    "    He    corrects    her.

                "    Uffa-    "    He    exclaims    under    his    breath,    speaking    up    afterwards.    "    Listen    baby,    if    somethin'    happens    I'm    gonna    hafta    be    the    one    to    say    'I    told    you    so'.    I    get    it,    I    understand    the    shit    you    been    through    and    what    you    do,    people    wantin'    you    dead    and    shit    but    now    there's    gonna    be    even    more.    And    if    you're    fine    livin'    with    that    then    shit,    be    my    guest.    "    He    grows    quiet,    sitting    back    in    his    seat    after    digits    reach    for    the    cup    again.

Didi likes love. She always has. She just didn't know the right ways to go about it— and when all you know is the wrong way and it still seems to work? Why even bother with the other way?

You never have to be vulnerable. You always get what you want. You go when you're bored and come back when you're needy. It's a very effective system. It's just a bit easier, isn't it? Than staying and trying to convince someone of your worth when the honeymoon phase is over. Than risking any real heartache.

The problem here is the fact that she doesn't want to go. Not yet.

"No?" It's cooed, finding that so funny right now. He's pushing her away like she might push him away one day. They're more similar than Nick wants to admit, she thinks. "Then we're terrible together. The absolute worst, hm." She laughs. "That's even better— that's more fun, hm." Only she would think being terrors together could be fun.

You're going to get killed if you stick around.

"—We're all going to die anyway."

I'm not the person you think I am.

"—That doesn't matter though, does it?" Didi groans before she twirls away, going to get herself a drink. "I know who I am."

Glass is placed down. "And more people than I can count hate me enough to wish me dead, hm." Ice clinks around in the glass. "I've had my kidney carved out for fuck's sake, Nick." She's pouring her rum, reaching for cola to mix.

"If you can't handle me, well, that's another problem entirely, hm." Glass is twirled in her hand, swishing about her drink. "Is that it, hm? You can't handle me?"

With a smile he shouldn't trust and a wink he shouldn't fall for, she plopped herself down on his couch, leg crossing over the other and making her skirt hike up. "...I think you're overthinking it. I'm not asking you to try and protect me. I'm not asking you to be a saint." Arms outstretch. "I'm asking for...dates. Company. To fuck you senseless after I cook a very beautiful meal, hm. I'm a simple girl, Nick. You don't have to be such a," Hand wildly gestures towards him. "cock about it."

                Didi's    happiness    seems    to    be    contagious,    a    small    smile    spreading    across    his    lips.    Muscular    arms    fold    across    his    chest    as    he    watches    her    a    moment.    They    fall    as    he    turns    to    move    out    of    the    kitchen.

                "    Ortolan.    "    He    says,    only    half    joking.    "    I'll    get    the    Gucci    scarves.    "

                It    takes    him    only    a    few    moments    to    dress    before    he    returns,    a    simple    outfit    though    if    you    were    to    look    at    the    tags,    it    might    be    more    than    four    months    salary    for    the    average    Joe    Schmo.    He    takes    pride    in    that.    Keys    are    whisked    off    the    counter,    phone    and    wallet    placed    in    pocket    as    he    looks    at    her.

                "    Whatever    you    wanna    make    me,    baby.    I'll    be    happy    with    it.    "    A    hand    waves    her    on.    "    C'mon,    where    we    goin'    ??    "  

It's a good question; why do it when he could just pay for it? Didi followed a similar logic when it came to everything else— she treated tossing other people's money around to get what she wanted like it was a sport and she was going for the gold.

But cooking was different. And honestly, she thinks everyone should be asking her to do it more often. She's never calmer than when she was cooking. There was something about methodically chopping and slicing and juggling a few cook times at once that was oddly soothing.

So soothing in fact that she doesn't even attempt to throw anything at his head when he looks slightly peeved.

There's still that slight bounce in her step when he does come out, Didi all smiles for once. "Do you like anything in particular? I can cook anything." That's a gross exaggeration, but she's feeling confident. "Or! Or— I could surprise you."

                Another    grin    spreads    across    his    face    as    she    speaks.    Some    days    she    can    plaster    smiles    on    his    face,    others    he's    shoving    money    in    hers    and    telling    her    to    fuck    off.    Though    it's    all    with    love.    Well...    as    much    as    he    could    love.

                "    Yep,    you    caught    me.    "    He    leans    in    towards    her,    as    if    he    had    a    secret    to    spill.    "    Calvin    Klein.    "    He    sits    back    again,    eyes    finding    the    can    in    his    hands,    lifting    it    to    his    lips,    though    speaking    first    before    taking    another    sip.

                "    What    I    will    tell    you    is    that    I    used    to    be    a    known    name    in    the    porn    industry.    "    That    was    not    a    joke.

She would love that. Why should she be expected to pay for anything? Maybe she's just spoiled from lavish living and weaker admirers who would drop money on her in a heartbeat if it meant gaining her attention and affection.

Nick was a little more resistant than them. "No?" The way her head tilts and lips pucker into a perfect 'o' is cute but for once, an honest reaction. Didi isn't used to being denied anything.

Legs are removed from his lap, curling up under her as she sighs and takes another sip from her drink. "That's disappointing." There's a second sip and an eventual roll of her shoulder. "I'll have to think of something then, hm." She looks Nick over, appraising him.

"Underwear model." Didi snaps, nods, happy with her choice. "You've got the body for it, hm. I can see you on a Times Square billboard." And she's not just saying that because she'd be down for a photoshoot.

@dxsole | cont.

                It    takes    a    moment    to    be    pulled    from    her    own    head,    though    ultimately    what    gets    her    is    baby.    Regardless    of    how    he    meant    it,    it    sure    got    her    attention    and    caused    a    warm    flush    across    her    cheeks.

                "    No,    no...    "

                Brows    furrow    as    she    shakes    her    head    no.    Eyes    squeeze    shut    for    a    moment    before    they    open    again,    gaze    falling    onto    the    boxer    before    her.    She    just    hasn't    been    there    all    night-    mentally    at    least.    Stress,    and    all    that.

                "    No,    y'don't    bore    me,    and    you're    very    impressive,    I    promise,    Donny.    "    She    wasn't    a    good    liar    either.    If    she    had    been    lying,    he'd    be    able    to    tell.    

@dxsole asked: "Good boy!" // from Didi to Nick but not with love, this is for psychosexual reasons >:3 from

                The    grip    Nick    has    on    the    back    of    Didi's    thighs    can    only    be    rivaled    by    that    of    a    vice.    His    face    is    planted    firmly    between    her    legs,    and    he    hasn't    come    up    for    air    in    at    least    eight    minutes,    though    it    felt    like    hours    to    the    man.    Not    that    he    would    anyways,    he'd    gladly    drown    here.

                Her    words    only    spur    him    on,    hips    gently    grinding    against    the    mattress    beneath    him.    Gaze    goes    from    watching    her    beneath    his    brow,    to    closing    shut    tightly.

                The    only    moment    he    pulls    back    is    when    those    words    fall    from    her    lips,    and    he    has    to.    He    needs    a    moment    to    compose    himself,    though    he    isn't    about    to    stop    completely.

                "    Fuck...    "    He    mutters    under    his    breath,    raising    his    head    just    enough    to    look    at    her.    "    Say    it    again...    please.    "    He    begs.