VESPER
Vesper huffs a soft laugh, eyes narrowing with affection as he tips his head toward Colt. The eye-roll is deliberate, slow, the kind reserved for someone who knows exactly how often she gets under his skin and how rarely he minds it. "Even for the wine," he repeats, voice dry as dust.
The look she gives him across the green felt is easy to catch; he’s already watching her, after all. Always is. His brows lift once, the gesture smooth and roguish, and the grin that follows is slower than sin. "Wouldn’t have it any other way." When she asks for luck, he raises a hand, fingers crossed like a charm meant more to tease than protect, and the smirk curving his mouth could gut the heart from anyone paying attention.
The cue returns to his hand with a little resistance as Colt does her part in sealing their victory. Vesper momentarily feels the warmth of her, the weight of that look, and then something else sharp and bitter on the edges. Jesse’s mind is a stormcloud of ego and desperation, thoughts prickling like thorns. There’s a flicker of something stupid brewing just beneath the surface: the idea of a staged fight, loud enough to justify wrecking the table, maybe even stealing a ball to throw if it came to that. Anything to end the game.
But fate, tonight, doesn’t appear interested in mercy. Colt’s trick shot has lined up the 8 ball with perfect cruelty, tucked at an angle so clean, even Vesper’s shadows don’t need to stir. He leans down, cue resting between loose fingers, his body folding into the moment with all the calm of a man who already knows the ending.
The tip of the cue taps smooth against the white, sending the black ball gliding. Vesper's gaze lifts to Colt as the ball curves once, twice—then thck—sinks home, and he winks.
The look she gives him across the green felt is easy to catch; he’s already watching her, after all. Always is. His brows lift once, the gesture smooth and roguish, and the grin that follows is slower than sin. "Wouldn’t have it any other way." When she asks for luck, he raises a hand, fingers crossed like a charm meant more to tease than protect, and the smirk curving his mouth could gut the heart from anyone paying attention.
The cue returns to his hand with a little resistance as Colt does her part in sealing their victory. Vesper momentarily feels the warmth of her, the weight of that look, and then something else sharp and bitter on the edges. Jesse’s mind is a stormcloud of ego and desperation, thoughts prickling like thorns. There’s a flicker of something stupid brewing just beneath the surface: the idea of a staged fight, loud enough to justify wrecking the table, maybe even stealing a ball to throw if it came to that. Anything to end the game.
But fate, tonight, doesn’t appear interested in mercy. Colt’s trick shot has lined up the 8 ball with perfect cruelty, tucked at an angle so clean, even Vesper’s shadows don’t need to stir. He leans down, cue resting between loose fingers, his body folding into the moment with all the calm of a man who already knows the ending.
The tip of the cue taps smooth against the white, sending the black ball gliding. Vesper's gaze lifts to Colt as the ball curves once, twice—then thck—sinks home, and he winks.
rot gut whiskey's gonna ease your mind
but when the hell are you gonna ease mine?
but when the hell are you gonna ease mine?
☆ has a pale star tattoo beneath his left eye, and freckle-sized constellations move across his skin
☽ hair changes from bleached blonde to brown
☆ telepathic: Sunlit Shadows | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
☽ hair changes from bleached blonde to brown
☆ telepathic: Sunlit Shadows | The user can read the surface thoughts and emotions of those within a 60ft radius. Control is excellent. Note: "Thoughts and emotions" include anything written in a character's narration in a post.
