paradisa | ☠ 034

Entry tags:

molotov cocktease

☠ 034

[It's the middle of January. Molotov has heard that some people were getting gifts, but she figures that, by this point, it'd have been impossible to not have found hers. So clearly she's not getting a gift.

That's fine. Molotov doesn't really care, and there's just not really anything she would have wanted from home anyway. So who cares?

She is hungry though -- it's late afternoon, and she skipped lunch. Molotov's in her kitchen (she doesn't see the allure of the communal one), journal open while she digs through cabinets. Settling on a new bag of potato chips, there's a rustling noise as she opens it, then a silence and a gasp.

And then a girlish, wholly un-mercernary-like squeal of happiness.

Merry late Christmas, Molotov.]

[ OOC: Open over the journal! ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I only hate your friends because they are terrible. And I do not hate all of them.

They're not terrible ...

Most of them are.

Well what are your friends like?

[Brock actually doubts Molotov has friends, but he knows better than to say that!]

What do you mean? They are all individuals. But none of them have ever left me locked in brigs, or hung all over you.

Alright -- first off, I left you locked in the brig and you forgave me just fine. Second ... which one of my friends "hangs all over me," the hell?

You have only been semi-forgiven for that. And Hellbeast, for one.

What.

Which part was difficult for you, darling?

"Hellbeast."

Da, you know her. All echo-y and angry and rotting.

[He vaguely recalls her explaining the "hellbeast" nickname before, yes ...]

Right ... but she doesn't hang on me.

She seems to have spent a great deal of time concerning herself with you, particularly before I put a stop to it.

What are you even talking about.

I already know, you do not have to hide it.

No -- really. What are you talking about?

I haven't gone out traipsing in the woods for a week with another man.

There were other people with us the whole time.

[WAIT......] You're so totally jealous.

I am not.

[chuckling! infuriating, amused chuckling] Yeah, you are. You're completely jealous. It's cute.

I am not jealous, and I am not cute.

Whatever you say, babydoll.

You are trying to make me forget the subject. I did not, we still need to get married.

[pffffttt, haha damn it, he thought he was off the hook --

Brock groans a little, which she should probably recognize as an indication that he is rolling his eyes.]

Whatever you say.

Do not give me attitude, Samson. If you are going to be so blase, we can be married within a month.