Enzo
Enzo expects a lot of things when he goes breaking-and-entering for amusements sake, but this is way out there in terms of what he could have imagined.
Mostly because flung ice cream looks really fucking sus from a distance. And it immediately inspires awe, jealousy, and medical concern. No wonder Flora is so happy with this dude if he can spurt off like that.
Already mid-motion (the entering part of breaking-and-) as Kaisel flings himself sideways like he’s imitating a dolphin by the poolside, Enzo realizes soon after that the substance in question is ice cream and becomes immediately disappointed - but no less amused.
“Kaisel!” he parrots back, though his tone is far brighter as it passes through his wildly grinning mouth. Kicking the door shut with his slippered heel, Enzo swaggers in and peers down at the sad, already-melting mess of ice cream. Well, the central part of it. The rest is sort of…cyclone’d everywhere across the rug. “Ice cream in the morning, Kaisel? So tell me, the hiding - is it because you won’t share, you’re on a diet, or is it some sort of kink?” Inches from a cackle, Enzo’s grin could rival fictional asshole cats as he turns back toward the draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls figure on the bed and approaches to thrust the cold bottle of champagne toward the other man. “Here, a consolation prize.”
Mostly because flung ice cream looks really fucking sus from a distance. And it immediately inspires awe, jealousy, and medical concern. No wonder Flora is so happy with this dude if he can spurt off like that.
Already mid-motion (the entering part of breaking-and-) as Kaisel flings himself sideways like he’s imitating a dolphin by the poolside, Enzo realizes soon after that the substance in question is ice cream and becomes immediately disappointed - but no less amused.
“Kaisel!” he parrots back, though his tone is far brighter as it passes through his wildly grinning mouth. Kicking the door shut with his slippered heel, Enzo swaggers in and peers down at the sad, already-melting mess of ice cream. Well, the central part of it. The rest is sort of…cyclone’d everywhere across the rug. “Ice cream in the morning, Kaisel? So tell me, the hiding - is it because you won’t share, you’re on a diet, or is it some sort of kink?” Inches from a cackle, Enzo’s grin could rival fictional asshole cats as he turns back toward the draw-me-like-one-of-your-French-girls figure on the bed and approaches to thrust the cold bottle of champagne toward the other man. “Here, a consolation prize.”
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