le vie en rose

“A slow death would be more appealing not to mention poetic.” 

“Yeah, it’s called Mind Your Fucking Business: The concerto!” 

“ what happened to you ? ” she finally asks, blue eyes searching his for any sort of familiarity — downcast when she struggles to find any. she could continue to argue with him, defend herself and remind him that it was he who had come up to h e r…but what’s the point in that ? “ you think it’s all a laugh and you just…you don’t care at all. i know that. ” and she does. if berlioz ever had any respect for her or her feelings, she doesn’t believe he does anymore. he’s given her no reason to. “ you don’t have to keep reminding me by coming over and being a jerk every time you see me. i know you have better things to do. ”

FLYNN: what's in it for you...jfc. i'll give you the money back with interest.

FLYNN: you're a real dick.

FLYNN: where's your brother? i'm sure he'll help me out

BERLIOZ: yeah, kinda ruins in the family

FLYNN: i'm actually 100% sober.

FLYNN: got the shit kicked out of me for trying to steal.

FLYNN: said i have to pay them back before they'll let me go...you gonna help or not?

BERLIOZ: hmm.. well if you put it that way then...

BERLIOZ: nah.

“ i’m not being a b r a t. i just don’t want to be your little messenger and if you want to pin this on me, fine. but why can’t you stop inserting yourself into my life and i don’t know…get yourself some gigs other than the ones at my house ? ” really, she could always just tell her dad what berlioz had done to her and maybe that’d get him out of her hair, but the very last thing she wants is to give her father another reason to be more protective of her than he already is.

FLYNN: can you come pick me up?

FLYNN: i managed to get myself into a bit of a situation

FLYNN: also...do you have like...300 dollars on you?

BERLIOZ: lol no.

“ what ? ” one arm crossed swiftly over the other above the redhead’s chest, ocean eyes flashing with annoyance. the very last thing she owed berlioz bonfamille was any favors. “ no. no deal. it’s y o u r gig, you tell him yourself. ” if she we’re lucky, her father wouldn’t be happy about it and stop asking him to come play at his parties altogether. despite that, she surely didn’t want to be the one to deliver the news.

andrina: ur flirting game really has plunged

andrina: https://i.imgflip.com/1aguu4.jpg

andrina: this should be like looking in a mirror, right?

toulouse: what are you talkin bout?

toulouse: no smooth art fiend will ever paint you as hard as i do in my dreams ;)

toulouse: is this u.

andrina: italian please

andrina: extra bread sticks or you're out

*8.35 pm berlioz goes to hijack tou's phone*

toulouse: also

toulouse: https://i.pinimg.com/564x/3d/02/e0/3d02e0da6503c7189fee1dae2e0146e3.jpg

with all the grace of a startled cat, o’malley stops a few steps from the music room. he wasn’t expecting to be heard over the beautiful music coming from berlioz’s deft hands and yet — here they were. o’malley’s affections for duchess were no secret and his awkwardness with her children was less so. “thanks for the heads up.” after a pause where he considers leaving, he walks to the doorway, leaning against it as casual as he can with how awkward he feels. “that was a nice tune there, kid. did you write it yourself?”