Mateo
champagne, cocaine, gasoline
and most things in between
and most things in between
Luckily for Flora, the silk shirt hanging open around Mateo tonight is already black, and so if she'd like to smear it with mascara, she absolutely can without fear. "Ah, together but separate. This is why you are the queen," he says with a small smile, pressing a smooch to her hair and guiding her into the kitchen, careful not to trip over the bunny ears on his own slippers. As she plops down at the table, he plonks the other cocktail he's made own in front of her - yes, with its own curly straw - and goes to set the kettle upon the stove.
"Anything that brings my little sister to tears is not stupid," he says, waggling his finger at her knowingly and arranging their mugs of tea before coming to sit down with her. Having forgotten about his own drink on the sideboard, he instead opts to drink the leftover cocktail right out of the shaker - and that suits him just fine, thank you.
Listening with the sort of intensity reserved for the moderately tipsy, Mateo frowns softly and reaches out on autopilot to clasp his hand in Flora's. "Trying to... tell you something?" he ventures softly before it clicks, the botanist wiggling the fingers of his left hand in understanding. "Well, what an idiot he is," he says with a huff. "A misunderstanding or not, that was clumsy at best and cruel at worst. Have you been speaking about it...?" Getting married, he means, assuming that this is why the dress has come as such a disappointment.
"Anything that brings my little sister to tears is not stupid," he says, waggling his finger at her knowingly and arranging their mugs of tea before coming to sit down with her. Having forgotten about his own drink on the sideboard, he instead opts to drink the leftover cocktail right out of the shaker - and that suits him just fine, thank you.
Listening with the sort of intensity reserved for the moderately tipsy, Mateo frowns softly and reaches out on autopilot to clasp his hand in Flora's. "Trying to... tell you something?" he ventures softly before it clicks, the botanist wiggling the fingers of his left hand in understanding. "Well, what an idiot he is," he says with a huff. "A misunderstanding or not, that was clumsy at best and cruel at worst. Have you been speaking about it...?" Getting married, he means, assuming that this is why the dress has come as such a disappointment.
I roam the city in a shopping cart
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
a pack of Camels and a smoke alarm
