sex addict

It was in that very moment, where she didn’t catch on to his slip up of words, that Patrick decided he couldn’t care less if this woman lived or died tonight. She was just like all the others. Running his tongue along perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth, Patrick peeled his lips back in a handsome grin.

                  " That’s alright, gorgeous. You don’t need                                   to worry about that type of thing. “

Patrick Bateman; Sexist. He was half tempted to get up and leave, or ignore her completely until she left… but her admittance to cutting people up for a living had him making a double take. With interest flaming behind his eyes, the man quirked a brow, gazing at her with a whole new perspective… and thought she continued on to say she was a surgeon, Patrick was still intrigued.

                   " Me too, “ he off-handedly remarked,                    smirking shortly after. Any normal being                    would take it as a joke, perhaps giggle,                    and leave it be without his having to                    explain himself. He was almost hoping                    she wouldn’t do the same.

And Liz did laugh at his comment. It was lame, but she liked lame jokes. Nevertheless, she wasn't sure how much it was going to actually save the night. Well, it certainly wasn't the worst night, anyway. It was a decent club with decent music, and she was a little tipsy --- just enough to get giggly. Liz had been to shadier places with shadier men, who didn't look nearly as good, so whether or not she cared for his personality wasn't really the issue. She just wanted to use him, which wasn't something she was embarrassed to admit. People didn't go to clubs looking for love.

At his question, she leaned forward a bit, running her lip through her teeth in thought. At least he looked interested in what she had to say. ❝Hmm, let's see... It's gotta be a tie between the man who cheated on his chemist wife and had his genitals doused in acid, or... the one who got his face gnawed off by his pet chimp. --- Oh, and there was this woman, this electrician or something... I can't remember. Anyway she fell onto a power line. Survived, too, be- lieve it or not. Blew off all her fingers and toes, though.❞

This was a mistake. Clearly a mistake. Patrick shifted in his seat, eyes narrowing on her as she gulped down the wine. Idly, he allowed himself to sip at his own glass, reveling in the flavour before leaning back heavily against the back of the curved sofa.

At least this area, reserved for VIP members, was quieter than the rest of the club. 

                              ❝ I’m a specialist, at Pierce and Pierce. ❞                                he admits, waving his hand dismissively.                                          ❝ Murders and executions. ❞

❝Not gonna lie, I never really under- stood all of that...business stuff,❞ said Elizabeth rather casually, setting down her empty glass on a nearby table. She was itching to dance, but she drank that a bit too fast and it had made her a bit lightheaded. She thought Peter or Parker or whatever the hell his name was was a bit rude, but maybe she could get a one- night stand out of it, anyway. She'd slept with bigger assholes.

For a long moment, George just stared, completely deadpan and looking anything but amused with his wife’s outburst of giggles— however his expression soon began to falter and within seconds he too was near spluttering with laughter.

"Jesus— Jesus fuckin’ Christ on a stick, what the fuck kinda question even is that? You bet your ass I’d fuckin’ watch, it’d be hot," he let out, between wheezes. "Fuck— quit it, keep it the hell down, God." There came a half-assed wave of his hand. "I dunno about you, but I really don’t dig the idea of having to explain to Caputo— y’know, that me and you are hard at work AKA pissing ourselves at the thought of… weird as fuck queer-ass shit with coworkers."

Liz is having a ball, almost completely careless at this point. She's knocked a few things over, which she got to picking up, wip- ing tears from her eyes. It wasn't even that funny, she was just a giggly mess. 

❝ I never asked what you preferred. ❞

She let out a noise through her lips before raising the glass of wine to them regardless --- well, at least it wasn't heavy liquor. She wasn't that much of a drinker; she got giggly off of an embarrassingly small amount of booze.

By now, Liz is laughing her ass off. She just hopes none of their coworkers hear this stupid, completely uncalled for discussion.

Wiping tears from her eyes, she sits up a bit further. ❝I will, I will,❞ she insisted, snorting through her  laughter. ❝Mm...yeah, I totally would. I wouldn't mind gettin' a little lesbo. And Fischer's cute, so.❞

She snickered coyly with her bottom lip between her teeth. ❝Would you watch?❞ And here is where, in an attempt to embarrass her husband (whether or not that would actually work wasn't the point), and she leaned back, with a bit of crude, mock-moaning,  pantomiming the act.