taking more from everything that ends

flora

Flora's thumb gently brushes over Kaisel's fingers, the contact hesitant but tender, and she feels ridiculous holding his hand across the table like they're awkward teenagers navigating something delicate and uncertain. She doesn't dare offer more, though she eases forward slightly to remove the strain in her arm, her fingers gently curling into his grasp. Her heart thrums quietly behind her ribs, both comforted and haunted by his reassurances—because despite his sincerity, she knows he's wrong. Asta's voice still echoes sharp and clear in her memory, calling their time together a mistake; Jack's silence a confirmation louder than any words, and Koa...well, she can imagine clearly enough the regret he'd likely admit if pressed. That if he could do it all again he'd orbit himself away from her star so as not to be trapped in her orbit. But Flora doesn't argue; there's no point in fighting his earnest attempt to soothe the wounds she wears so openly when it's just Kai's gaze upon her.

Instead, she offers him a soft, crooked smile. "I liked you picking me up," she admits quietly, her gaze flickering shyly toward the tabletop before returning to his. "It was sweet—and kind. Don't apologize for that." Her voice trails into a resigned sigh, one that’s edged with a gentle tease despite the sincerity beneath. "Maybe I just need to get laid," she murmurs dryly, lips quirking into a faint smirk before she deliberately shifts her foot slightly beneath his other hand, leaning into the warmth of his palm as if by accident. Flora’s eyes flash playfully, tension melting momentarily beneath mischief as she suddenly wonders: "Are you coming to my party at the Hanged Man?"

I want to be when you fall on me like night
I wanna kill the lights

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Kaisel

One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave

Try as he might, Kaisel cannot give her the relief she needs, in any manner. He doesn't know all the finer details of her heartaches to sort through the minutia with her and help her see where she's overthinking or where she misunderstood because she was hurt. And he can't—he won't—be the one she eases her physical needs with, although that just screams of her trying to avoid the hurt by burying it in orgasms. Which does sound nice, but it won't actually accomplish much in the long run in terms of sorting through all her shit and putting things to bed. All he can do is try his best to convince her she's more than everything she's put behind her, that there's something better ahead still, because to him, she seems convinced there's nothing left but gloomy skies.

She's lost a lot, he tries to remind himself. She's adrift now and desperately needs an anchor. Needs something good.

"Don't we all," he snorts as she jokes about needing a lay, and if he squeezes her hand again then, he doesn't mean to. Her foots shifts then, and his eyes widen a bit before narrowing accusingly at her as he presses back against her with his palm. Harmless he reminds himself. "I think you just need someone to torture endlessly," he counters with a huff. "Guess that's what I'm for." he smirks, teasing, kinda. She certainly knows what she does, that's clear to him now, and that makes it so much more dangerous—it's much harder to ignore intent than accident. Still, she's so damn charming about it.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," he reassures her with a broad grin, already planning his outfit (she better appreciate such forethought). He glances down, picking her hand up then and inspecting it. Seeming to find a flaw, he shakes his head disapprovingly, dropping her hand with feigned disgust. "You're going to need to do your nails before then girl." he makes a face, laughing. "C'mon, get the polish and I can work on them now, and you can tell me all the miserable things you're still sitting on, like Koa's bad breath."

It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on the floor

flora

Flora grins, all white teeth and mischief as Kaisel accuses her of needing someone to torture. "You say that like you’re not holding up remarkably well," she hums, cocking her head just enough to give him an exaggerated once-over. And maybe her thumb brushes his knuckles again. Maybe she feels the way his fingers tighten around hers, just for a moment, before smoothing back into place. If she reads anything into it, she doesn't show it—though her eyes sparkle with something unspoken and slightly dangerous. Despite everything she’d just said about harmless, her mind hasn't stopped replaying how easily he’d lifted her earlier. If horny jail did exist, they both deserved to be locked up. No trial, no mercy. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.

As he lifts her hand with that theatrical little inspection, Flora huffs in mock offense. "Excuse you," she gasps, eyes widening with feigned outrage. "Soh and I are supposed to go to the spa before the party—so she could look radiant for her maybe-boyfriend, and I could look radiant just for being me." With a melodramatic sigh, she slides out from the bench and disappears into the depths of her bedroom, returning moments later with a small, glittery cosmetics bag that she unzips with a flourish. She plops it onto the table between them—cuticle scissors, buffers, lotions, and of course the cherry-red polish already chosen to match her party outfit.

Settling herself with a little flip of her hair, she props her hand back into his. "Hey," she says, cocking a brow with the sort of smirk that promises nonsense is incoming. "Did Koa ever tell you about that time we were furious at each other, and we got paired up for this appreciation event?" She laughs, the memory bright with distance. "Most gruelling five minutes of my life. You had to constantly compliment your partner. Spoiler alert? None of our compliments were actually complimentary. At one point he said if I was in a fairy tale I'd be a queen obviously, but then named all the really wicked and terrible ones, and I said my favourite feature of his was his back because of how often he walked away from me." Gods, she hadn't thought about that day in years, and how just as they'd finally gotten all their bullshit out of the way, they'd been forced to switch partners.

I want to be when you fall on me like night
I wanna kill the lights

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Kaisel

One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave

He's holding up about as well as a house of cards on a sailboat drifting into a hurricane. All it'll take is one harmless taunt too many and he'll be part of Gambit's arsenal. She knows that though, so the devastation of the day rests entirely in her hands, and that's a problem for someone who's got an itchy trigger finger. Knowing has made her presence remarkably more dangerous, has turned mistakes into moments, but it's also granted him some better perspective.

If he bothers to think on it much at all, which he's actively trying to avoid doing (Ludo—can he get an item too?), he'll find strength in this knowledge rather than weakness. It arms him with the idea that she doesn't actually want him. Before, he could wonder, but now that's she's said she'd take him there, but doesn't want to either, he can relax. The tension of maybe has snapped into yeah, no. She's lonely, she's hurt, and she needs a rebound, even better if he looks like Koa. She doesn't actually want him though, she just wants something, and that would be a regret for both of them.

Luckily Kaisel is an expert at distracting and ignoring, like an apathetic magician. Much like the nail polish Flora plops down, he'll just paint over all these thoughts, smear some glitter across the worry, pour some lacquer to seal up the wonder. Whenever you're not sure, just add some razzle dazzle and you're cured.

A 'brow quirks up at her question, a grin soon spreading, hungry. A hot goss sesh? Yes please. If she won't let him focus on her positives, then let's focus on everyone else's negatives. "What the fuck is an appreciation event?" he asks as he strips the old polish from her nails with a cottonball and liquid specific to the task. His mom has trained him well over the years. He chuckles heartily at her retelling as he swaps to oil that he dabs along her cuticles, deft and tender with the work. "Let me guess, he was mad at you because you were mad at him?" He shakes his head, as if accustomed to the situation. He doesn't miss the shimmer of fondness that enters her voice though, and again wonders why they're so insistent on ignoring the love they each have for each other.

It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on the floor

flora

For some people, the way to their heart was food. For others, it was diamonds. Problematic or not, for Flora, it had always been sex.

Koa had been her first—wild, messy, etched into her brain forever—and ever since that day, it had always been touch that brought them back together again. Arguments smoothed over by kisses or moments that locked them in a tension they were helpless to escape. Distance undone by heat. Jack had followed the same pattern, all unspoken things folded into fingers curling around hips or mouths pressed too hard and too fast before love even entered the equation. Even Astaroth, all smouldering dominance and soft apologies, had first reached her through the language of skin, making her think of fairytales when he'd meant to be anything but her prince charming. For all her barbed humour and gold-plated confidence, physicality was the only currency that ever seemed to hold weight when things got hard. When she got soft.

And Kaisel—gods, Kaisel. He hadn’t even meant to start anything. That press of his body in her kitchen hadn’t come with an ask, but it had been enough. Her mind had started wondering. Started wanting. Not with the sweet flush of a schoolgirl crush, nothing so innocent or fluttery. But not quite a rebound either, no matter how easy it was to tell herself that. Still. It didn’t matter. Not with Koa tangled around her ankles like seaweed, pulling her under when she least expected it.

Her eyes drift back to Kaisel as he deftly oils her cuticles, his concentration steady and his touch unexpectedly gentle. She’s impressed, genuinely, and maybe just a little delighted. So naturally, Flora slides one bare leg across his thighs, settling her ankle just behind his knee like she’s always belonged there. "You're hired," she announces breezily, flashing him a grin before snorting at his earlier question.

"It was this whole event they ran in Torchline a while back," she explains, wiggling her fingers helpfully as he works. "Everyone got paired up and had to go through these appreciation prompts—like, compliment your partner’s looks, name your favourite physical feature, say what fairytale character they’d be, something you’re grateful for, all that fake-deep shit." She rolls her eyes. "Only because we were mad, like I said, everything was passive-aggressive as fuck." Her smirk fades into a groan as she leans her head back. "And why were we mad, you ask?" Her tone is pure sarcasm, but her gaze flickers toward Kaisel, unguarded beneath the humour. "Because they both disappeared at the same time. Koa and Soh. And for weeks no one knew where they were. Everyone—and by everyone I mean me and Jude, mostly—thought he’d knocked her up and they’d run off together."

She laughs, but it's just brittle and tired. "Obviously that wasn't what happened, but you know how Koa is with explanations, and by the time he and I got onto the same page, we’d already said enough shitty things to each other to make it a thing. So." She gestures vaguely, like that’s all there is to it. Except of course, it wasn’t, because with them things never seemed to end, even when they did.

I want to be when you fall on me like night
I wanna kill the lights

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Kaisel

One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave

There's comfort in her touch. It's always a reassurance to him that he hasn't fucked something up, hasn't pushed someone away—touch. He offers it freely with most people, grounding himself with it, and unlike so many who are tentative to give or receive it, he doesn't shy away from the risk, because at least then it'll tell him something. It's probably his love language too, if he'd bother to consider them all, or consider something like love for himself.

Her foot settles into a much safer spot on his leg instead of brushing against his balls, which had been an equal threat of injury and incitement. He doesn't stir at the addition, and his hands are too busy, focusing on dabbing lotion against his palms. He glances up from his work, copper on teal, and flashes a smile. "It'll cost you one skyship adventure."

His attention drops back to her hands as he takes one into his and pulls the lotion across from wrist to finger tip and back down. His thumbs spin a series of circles into the back of her hands and along the edges of her palms. "Okay, weird, but that actually sounds fun," he admits as she explains. He hums, a thought forming as he flicks his gaze back up to her. "Okay, if you were a cupcake, what part would you be?" It's not a compliment, so he has reason to believe she might roll her eyes and honor him with her answer this time. He smirks though, because it's fucking ridiculous. His gaze shifts back down as he takes her other hand to repeat the lotion application.

"That seems like a wild conclusion to jump to," he says with a sigh as he sets her hands down. It sounds to him like they both had problems with explanations, but yes, his darling cousin has a penchant for foot-in-mouth syndrome. "Sounds like the perfect reason for a do-over," he glances up at her pointedly as he wipes the excess lotion off on the top of her foot.

It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on the floor

flora

"SOLD," Flora says immediately, flashing him a grin full of delight and reckless agreement. "I’ve got a whole list of places I wanna see, but—" she leans forward slightly, curls brushing her shoulder as excitement lifts her voice, "—way out past Halo? Apparently the sky turns colours. Like, whole northern-light shit lighting up the snow. If there’s ever a time to go west, it’s definitely LongHeat. Less frostbite. More fun."

And then his hands are on hers again—rubbing lotion into her skin, tracing warm spirals across the backs of her palms—and Flora has to sip in a quiet breath, biting down on the sigh of pleasure that nearly slips from her mouth. It’s not that kind of massage, but gods, with how touch-starved she’s been, it’s enough to make goosebumps shimmer up her arms all the same with how good it feels.

She smirks despite herself, letting her lashes dip with a little amused groan. "Of course you think an appreciation event sounds fun. You would thrive in a compliment battle." Still, when he tosses his next question at her—utterly ridiculous and weirdly endearing—Flora pauses, delighted. "If I were a cupcake?" she repeats, tapping her nails gently on the table in mock-consideration. "The obvious answer is the surprise bit in the middle, because duh. But I think..." Her eyes narrow, mischief curling at the corners. "I’d be the secret ingredient. The thing you can’t name, but that lingers on your lips for hours after. And you?" she counters, one brow arched as she reaches for her drink. "If you were a condiment, what would you be?"

Her toes press into his stomach, then, gently but deliberately, the movement lazy and teasing as the conversation circles back to Koa. She shrugs, but there's a subtle tightness in her shoulders that doesn't quite ease. "Back then, Soh and Koa were playing the same will-they-won’t-they dating game they're playing now. So when they both disappeared? It seemed obvious. They didn’t tell anyone where they were, didn’t leave a note. And there are only so many reasons two people vanish together—" she lifts her water glass in mock-toast, nearly dropping it because of the lotion, "—pregnancy was at the top of the list." Besides, of all the people she knew, Soh and Koa seemed the most likely for an accidentally pregnancy.

The humour fades as she looks at him, quieter now. "And as for a do-over?" Her toes press a little more firmly into his stomach, not hard but weighted with meaning. "There isn’t one when someone tells you they're in love you and then picks someone else." Her voice doesn’t waver, but there’s something fragile just behind it. "Besides, I would never do that to Sohalia. Not when she doesn't just have a crush on Koa like she did back in those days." Now that the Luminary was properly in love with the dragoon, certain pathways were just...gone.

I want to be when you fall on me like night
I wanna kill the lights

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Kaisel

One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave

The idea of visiting Halo sounds perfect right now, given the heat that presses in constantly, a bit stifling down here where the sea breeze can't help disperse it. "Really? I'd have thought you'd have been all over, you always were more intrepid that way," he says with a touch of admiration. "I mean, you don't stand still. Not only did you move to a boat and protect your kingdom, but you also are prepping the boat to fly already? If I didn't know better I'd say you never sleep." In short, Flora is a whirlwind.

He glances up to fully take in her answer to the cupcake quiz, secretly thrilled that she didn't just laugh in his face about it. It is perhaps one of his favorite things about her, she's always willing to sink into whatever idiot plans he's cooking up. "Like, the gross aftertaste you get when you've had too much sugar? Gross." he asks with an overly put on innocence, snickering as he resumes his task at hand—her hands. Her answer is sweet, but he can't resist teasing her ruthlessly when the moment arises. He's lost score for today's rounds, but he's pretty sure she's ahead so it's only fair really. "I would be—sprinkles." Fun, but not really integral to the whole cupcake experience. He always feels a bit like that—a surface level addition, something desired, sure, but not needed. He doesn't think poorly of himself, quite the opposite usually, but there's no denying that his greatest value to most situations is his boisterous show, his distracting magic tricks. Even here, with her, one of the few he might turn off with, he feels she's happiest when he's sprinkles. Once they get into the frosting and the cake, it's awkward and stiff. "Everyone likes sprinkles," he shrugs, as if he hasn't put too much thought in it, as if there's not a deeper meaning to the anatomy of desserts.

Her question draws a look and a smile, but he doesn't answer yet, mulling it over. The press of her toes against his belly is light enough to tickle and he giggles faintly, then throws her a scowl as he gently slaps her foot. "Quit it," he warns mildly. It lacks the bite of any heat, but the last thing he wants is to be reduced to jumpy, writhing, giggling fool because of her feather-light torture.

She jousts him with her toes again, but harder this time so it doesn't tickle, just pokes. He grunts against it, scoffing at the insistence. "There isssss when both people are sorting their love life outttttt," he says with his own insistence, picking her hands back up to buff and shape the nail and cuticle edges. "You're putting what she wants before you?" he asks casually, pausing for a moment to look at her. "You can be selfish sometimes, you know." Hasn't she given up enough for others by now?

"I'd be ketchup," he says finally after a pause, leaning in closer to the table to carefully maneuver each small edge of her nails. "I'm just a basic bitch at heart." Satisfied with the job, he moves on to applying a clear coat. "You?"

It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on the floor

flora

Flora rolls her eyes with a dramatic huff, like she’s deeply offended by the oversight. "For your information," she snorts, raising a brow and tossing her curls over one shoulder. "The Sugar Tide can already fly. It just can’t carry anyone but me until I finish my quest with Safrin." Which only has one thread left to do, so pack your bags Kaisel She lifts her free hand in a lazy little flourish, wiggling her fingers. "But yeah, no—your girl’s skybound already."

As for the sleep comment? Her grin fades just a little, edged in something more tired than teasing. "I mean, isn’t that what the post-breakup insomnia special’s for? Laying wide awake, replaying every dumb thing you said or didn’t say or should’ve said?" She shrugs lightly. "Avoiding that is kind of a hobby at this point."

His jab about the aftertaste earns a snort of laughter. "Yeah, exactly," she says, fully embracing the bit. "The kind that makes your lips feel weird and your teeth feel fuzzy and you can’t quite decide if it was actually delicious or if you want to wash out your mouth again. That's me." She catches the slight shift in Kaisel’s tone when he talks about sprinkles, but not the weight beneath it. Still, her smile when she looks at him is utterly radiant and adoring. "Sprinkles make everything better," Flora agrees softly and were he not concentrating so hard on her fingers, she'd have squeezed his. "It's hard not to want them on everything."

Then he sing-songs again about her and Koa, and Flora retaliates immediately, brushing the edge of her foot feather-light up his side until he twitches. "You quit it," she says sweetly. "Besides, someone very recently told me I was selfish, so.." Her voice lowers a little, a touch self-deprecating now as she thinks of Jack's words. "So you’re covered there. Besides, if I went to Koa and 'I was wrong about everything! Let's run off into the sunset!', it’d ruin my friendship with Sohalia. So, yeah, in a way, I am being selfish because Soh's my BFF and I wouldn't let anything come between us."

"As for condiments..." She hums thoughtfully. "Hot honey, maybe?" Her eyes glitter as she looks at him. "Or just ketchup. Y’know. Basic bitch solidarity." When Kaisel leans in close to inspect her nails, Flora watches him fondly—until he gets close enough for her to reach up and boop him gently on the nose. "Boop," she says smugly, because why wouldn’t she?

I want to be when you fall on me like night
I wanna kill the lights

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Kaisel

One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave

It's his turn to mock offense as she clarifies, "Now you're calling me fat?" If the boat can't fly with him onboard, seems there's only one way to take that. Shaking his head in disbelief, he resumes his work. "So if it will fly two people, and someone jumps onboard while you're sailing away, will it just plummet to the ground?" She might need a stowaway policy.

Hurt weaves between the laughter, and he flicks his eyes up to her briefly as she describes her aversion to sleep of late. "White noise works," he says softly, as if he's also laid for hours with the ceiling as a screen for every mistake and possibility to play out on. Pretty shitty movie to be honest. He'd do more, if he could, but something like that only she can fix. She'll have to find a way to quiet her mind and be at peace with herself again, which usually just takes time and acceptance that sometimes things just fucking suck. He can sit with her though and share the weight of it, which sometimes can be enough for a while.

He laughs at her, shaking his head. "I don't think sprinkles on a salad sound very good. Or a burger? Ew." Still, the smile lingers afterwards, grateful for the idea all the same.

He jerks so hard away from her light brush that he nearly falls out of his seat. "Heeeeey," he whines, huffing as he resettles and slides obstinately against her foot. He waves a dismissive hand at her, "Fine, fine, I won't bring it up again," he promises, no fingers crossed this time. Her explanation does make sense finally, though he sighs with dramatic volume at the absolute mess they're all in. "Babes before baes, right?" he smirks, but wonders why Soh doesn't approach the subject with the same thought, being mindful of Flora's feelings in the matter. No matter what, seems like someone will be hurt.

"You—a basic bitch? Not possible," he laughs heartily, "ketchup doesn't wear what you do, you're definitely hot honey." Leaning down to blow on her nails to ensure they're dry before moving on to the red polish she'd selected, he's booped. He flinches back slightly, surprised, but recovers swiftly and glances up at her with a grin. "See, not good at sitting still," he chides, grabbing the red polish and threatening her with a wave of it. "If this doesn't go on neatly, it's your fault, not mine."

It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on the floor

flora

Flora’s grin sharpens like a knife made of pure mischief. "Yep," she says sweetly, popping the p like a cherry. "I am calling you fat. And you know what that means? You need more morning runs with me." Her tone is all saccharine delight, but the look she gives him over the rim of her glass is absolutely the smug gleam of a woman plotting his aerobic demise. "And before you argue, you already said I needed someone to torture endlessly, and that's you babe." As for flying rules and regulations, the queen just shrugs. "If there are too many people on the Sugar Tide, I’m pretty sure she'd just sink down like a weighted balloon. All dramatic and tragic—cue the tiny violins." She smirks, clearly unbothered by the mental image. "Or if someone tried to stow away while I was sailing? It just wouldn’t fly. Like, literally."

But then, because toeing the line is a deeply held Flora-core value, she doesn’t stop there. "But considering how well you keep it together with just me onboard," she adds innocently, dragging her gaze slow and sultry across his face, "maybe cool your jets before you start fantasizing about adding a third to the manifest." Her smile is all feline smugness, pure wicked implication.

At the mention of white noise why's it always gotta be white, she just shrugs, gaze drifting toward the cabin wall like maybe her mind has already wandered a little. "Keeping busy works too," she murmurs. "Though now that I’m not managing the bar anymore..." She trails off with a lazy wave of her free hand, letting the implication hang. Time used to be a luxury; now it’s a curse with nowhere to go and no one to fill it.

When he scoffs about sprinkles on salads, she snorts. "Okay, true, but like, no one wants to eat salads anyway, that’s not the sprinkles’ fault." She tips her head at him. "And honestly? If you chop bacon up small enough, it’s basically sprinkles. And those would absolutely be delish on a burger."

Kai flinching from her foot earns a triumphant little nod from Flora. She lounges back further, angling her leg so that it’s comfortably draped across his lap now, the other crossing neatly over it at the ankle. "I'm sure you feel the same way about your bros," she says breezily, voice perfectly innocent. "Sometimes you just gotta not risk the vibe, y'know?" Even if that vibe occasionally strayed into dangerous territory, like featherlight touches and unspeakable thoughts. She wasn't the only barrier here to fucking around and finding out, after all.

"Also, when did I ever say I was good at sitting still?" she huffs, rolling her eyes dramatically before glancing pointedly at the polish. "And if you get that anywhere on my skin, I’m leaving the most scathing reviews. ‘One star. Tech wouldn't stop talking about sprinkles. Couldn't spell the word cuticle much less find them. Red looked more like a crime scene than a manicure.’"

I want to be when you fall on me like night
I wanna kill the lights

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Kaisel

One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave

"What!?" he demands, the dramatics not feigned for once. "You don't actually say yes to that!" he laughs, barely able to say the words before the humor at her audacity takes over. He glances down at his stomach, pulling his shirt up into his mouth so his hand is free to squish it in test. Had he been eating too much ice cream lately? "You're telling me, this is fat?" he says with fabric-muffled indignation. Rolling his eyes he spits the shirt out, "there it is—you just want the best running partner around. You can just ask me if that's the case," he grins with the power only the Uno reverse card can grant. But, yeah actually it will be fucking torture, because she's way better at it than he is. He's not about to admit that though and let her win another point.

He considers the sad violin funeral of the slowly descending ship, already plotting some future hinderance to her, all in good fun of course. He's not expecting to have his metaphorical towel ripped away and his bare body exposed so ruthlessly though. "Wh—huh?" he sputters, blush raging up his cheeks instantly. Here he thought he'd played it all off rather coolly. How many times had she known? Gods, was it all of them!? "I don't know what you mean," he insists with an unusual pitch to his voice.

Choosing to focus back on her nails to hide his shame, he mutters "gods now I'm hungry with all this talk of burgers and sprinkles." He pauses to look up at her with a smirk, although according to you I should be going for the salad."

He retrieves her hand again, holding it with gentle authority as the red swipes back and forth across the nail with steady strokes. "I'd tell all the spas never to accept you again because you're a monstrous customer," he tuts back, squinting at one nail as he tilts it one way then the other, swiping his thumb against the edge. "Better," he announces after a brief inspection and a swap of hands to complete her. "Now you can be seen along the coast again without scaring children," he announces with a devious line to his lips.

It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on the floor

flora

Flora bursts out laughing, the sound bright and unrepentant as Kaisel goes full dramatics. "Now who’s fishing?" she crows, watching with delight as he lifts his shirt and pokes at his definitely-not-fat stomach. Still grinning, she presses the ball of her foot firmly against his abs, dragging it in slow, exaggerated circles like she’s really inspecting the alleged blubber. Her nose wrinkles. "Ugh, yeah. Totally fat," she deadpans, eyes sparkling.

But her grin softens almost immediately, her tone turning gently teasing. "If I wanted the best running partner, I’d ask Ronin." She shrugs one shoulder, then looks at Kaisel again, warm and unguarded. She hadn't said she wanted the best, she'd said she wanted him.

When he stammers and blushes—blushes, gods she loves that—she doesn’t bother looking away. Her head tips to the side, curls tumbling like spun gold over one shoulder as she hums, wide-eyed and so very innocent. "You don't?" she wonders sweetly, a picture of playful guiltlessness with absolutely no intention of backing off.

As for his threats to blacklist her, Flora sniffs dramatically. "You can try," she says loftily, "but I always tip well enough to excuse my tragic personality." When he finally releases her hands, she lifts them immediately and fawns—hands splayed, wrists twisting in the light like she’s showcasing royal jewels. "Gods," she breathes. "You actually did a good job. How dare you." Then, fluttering her lashes at him: "Thank you." This time, the sweetness is real.

Settling back into the pillows again and adjusting her legs in his lap, her grin returns, this time with a new glint of anticipation. "Soooooo," she purrs, nudging him lightly with her heel, "you gonna save me a dance at my party? Or should I be worried you're gonna spend the night pouting in a corner like a sad little ketchup packet?"

I want to be when you fall on me like night
I wanna kill the lights

Code blatently stolen from queen of codes, Sky!

Kaisel

One foot in the ground
One foot in the grave

Hot honey, it sometimes even looks like normal honey, and it'll always fool you with that first bite full of sweetness, like you've got nothing to fear. Then the heat will come on with an overwhelming bite that leaves you tearing up and choking down water. And yet, it's so good, you'll do it again a minute later.

To think, she thought she could claim she's ketchup, when she lays on that faux sweetness so thick it could leave him fossilized for the future generations to unearth with all his embarrassment in full display. Look kids, it's the idiot-rex, he died of shame when he thought he could hide his obvious chubs every time he held his friend. "Correct, I don't" he says after clearing his throat, serious and dry and unable to look at her.

He smirks at her appraisal, breathing on one set of his nails and rubbing them on a shoulder like it were nothing. "You should know to have faith by now," he sighs playfully, smooching the air in return at her gratitude as he leans back into his own seat, a hand casually resting over the leg she's got on him.

"I promise I will dance with you, I would hate for you to be bored at your own party," he grins, essentially implying she would only have the best time when they were together. "But I don't know why you think I'd be pouting," he scoffs. "I don't pout. I drink my feelings like someone respectable and cry when I masturbate, isn't that what you're supposed to do?" He laughs, and it's no longer clear if he means it or not. I DO think I need to work on my tan before the party though, blend in a bit better. Have you recovered from your stroke earlier?" As in, are you gonna keep your tits holstered and not bring up his cousin and make shit sad and weird again? "We're wearing sunscreen though, I am not going to show up peeling."

It's not the devil at your door
It's just your shadow on the floor