Everything it seems I like's a little bit stronger

[molotov]

Who| Molotov and Black Tom
What| Dinner
Where| Below Timberline
When| A few days after the end of the Arena
Warnings/Notes| nah

One extremely good part of being friends with Jolie meant never having a lack of animal prints in your wardrobe. Molotov wanted to be a big cat lounging in the trees -- and it wasn't like cheetah print didn't already appeal to the Brighton Beach whore part of Molotov's innate style. Gold bangles and miniskirts and velour everywhere, all the time.

It was easy enough to pull the strings and get a good reservation. Tributes were celebrities by nature, but Molotov's hard work at becoming a public figure really had paid off, as shops and restaurants figured it was fantastic to have someone so recognizable be seen in their doorways.

Her earlier words to Tom were true, though, and she's swept away from the paparazzi into the most private nest before he can even arrive. She waits patiently, long legs curled up next to her under her skirt, sipping at a glass of wine and almost childishly watching for him to round the corner with the hostess.

Comments

[pimpcanes]

"Oh, I'm sure there are a few with quality ingredients and questionable culinary decision-making." And yet he entirely agrees with her assessment. "Are you really talking about good people or good company?"

[molotov]

"My definition of what makes a good person is probably a little different than most peoples'." Her smirk makes it clear that she doesn't give two shits if anyone else thinks he's good or bad, like those are anything more than abstract adjectives. "So why can't it be both, hm?"

[pimpcanes]

"I just don't see being 'good' in the eyes of such a deplorable society to be anything worth pursuing, honestly." And that's that, his snobbish rationale for all his bad behavior. He runs his thumb over her wrist. "But if you insist it's irrelevant, I won't mind."

[molotov]

Molotov makes a noise of dissent, waves her hand as she finishes chewing a bite of steak.

"Fuck society. I don't care what they think of me, of you. I want you to be good for me. That's all I ever ask, be good for me. To me. That's all I ever ask."

[pimpcanes]

He understands that her roots are growing into him, that he's willingly yielding himself to her spider's web. And yet he can't help but agree to her terms.

"That seems a reasonable enough bargain."

[molotov]

She smiles widely, pleased, and tilts up to gently press her lips to his cheek.

"I'm glad you agree." That's all she says before she returns to eating.