* 𝑲𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑬𝑹 / 𝑸𝑼𝑬𝑬𝑵

     dolly’s sat on the windowsill, sacrificing her own warmth for fresh air within the apartment. luckily an over-sized hoodie saves her from the open window as she allows the spoke from her lips to escape outside. she’s called in sick to work, deciding to take a lazy day off just ‘cause she doesn’t feel like facing the day. her free hand is planted on the head of her grey feline, manicured nails scratching him in all the right spots. when she hears the door open, she doesn’t look up from the television program she’s watching but she can only assume it’s her brother entering. “this guy parked on the fucking sidewalk and he doesn’t understand why he’s getting a ticket,” she mutters with the click of her tongue, shaking her head. “i think this is my new dream job. i wanna write people parking tickets all day long and flip ‘em off when they try to fight me about it.”

     eyes narrow the slightest amount as she holds the other’s gaze, plucking the cigarette from between her lips to flick the access ashes away onto the pavement. “am i up for a field trip?” she repeats, smoke billowing from parted lips followed by a lighthearted chuckle. “sounds like something a murderer would say.” at the very least, it’s something dolly would say if she were about to drag a person away to a secondary location to murder them. “if you think i have money though, you’re sorely mistaken. what’s in it for me?”

     “tragic,” dolly’s response is muttered half-heartedly as she examines her manicured fingers, brows knitting together when she notices a chip in the polish. she’s eavesdropping, of course, which is nothing if not a classic dorothy move. she looks up from her spot leaned against the wall, a cigarette of her own dangling precariously from glossed lips. “guess you gotta decide what’s more important. convenience or your beloved american spirits? tough call.” shoulders lift in a little shrug. it’s not any of dolly’s business to begin with but she finds herself chiming in. “if i were you, i’d just make someone else buy ‘em for me. that IS what i do, anyway.”

     “the first thing that comes to mind is my cat freddie but technically he owns me. so i dunno—my good bong? maybe my skankiest hooker boots. either or.”

     “bold of you to assume i have a favourite thing about him. he’s too soft for the world sometimes, which is frustrating. it feels like he’s wasting his time waiting for shit that’s never gonna happen and i’m always trying to shake some sense into him but the idiot doesn’t listen to me. s’pretty cool he gave me a place to live, though. and he always cooks dinner so i don’t have to.” @ethanlindvig

     an unwelcome touch is more than enough to make dolly turn slowly on her heel to see who the digits belonged to. crystal hues meet his gaze before they flick down to the wallet in his hands. dainty hands are removed from the pockets of her coat so she can pluck the item from his grip and examine it in her hands. it definitely doesn’t belong to her, but she’s not about to hand it back without checking first to see if there’s any cash inside. “this isn’t mine,” she admits openly, words followed by a little shrug. “you didn’t check the id first or nothin’?” a brow raises. perhaps if the girl had a conscience, she wouldn’t have flipped the thing open to riffle through it like a vulture picking away at carcass. there’s credit cards and membership cards galore but she’s more interested in the cash buried inside. “thanks, though. lunch on me, what d’ya say?”

     “my idiot cat tried to fucking claw his way up my curtain the other day and fell right on his ass. i fucking died. might’ve just been funny ‘cause i was stoned but i still nearly pissed myself so it still counts.”

     “my parents.”

     “it was always the best when he would call the school pretending to be my dad so i could ditch class, full on ferris bueller style.”

     “what i think is the best think about troy changes all the time. i go through little phases, sometimes, so it’s hard to pick just one thing. right now i’m kind of obsessed with his hands. and his sense of humor, always. the most annoying thing is EASY, though. he doesn’t like when i call him wildcat in bed but i think it’s hilarious.” @ohtrcy

     “i’ve never held a hand in my entire life. that’s disgusting.”

🦋 marty 🦋

     “if you say it loud enough for me to hear, you’re making it my business,” dolly mutters offhandedly, crystal hues flicking back down to her own phone screen. “in what world was that NOT help, anyway? i’m not some kinda tech expert or nothin’. the internet has the answer to everything and if it doesn’t, breaking shit is always the next best option. s’fun. solves rage issues and shit.”

     dolly looks unimpressed as she meets his gaze through day-old mascara coated lashes. “i pout about everything, you can’t stop me.” as if to prove the point further, her expression remains unwavering, pout still planted upon her face. “there’s only two ways to get me to shut the fuck up, percy. buy my silence permanently for ten thousand dollars a month, if you want. if not, stop complaining ‘cause i’m gonna keep going.” she barely acknowledges his irritation, waving her hand dismissively since the other obviously isn’t about to cut her a massive cheque. “you ASKED for my opinion. if you didn’t want to hear it, you shouldn’t have invited me.”

DOLLY: something in the brain machine will have to be replaced with proper accent capabilities

     there’s nothing dolly wants more than to be civil and move on but she still can’t help but wonder why christian is being so nice to her. even now after they’d officially ended things for good she’s still got the deep self-destructive urge to pick a fight just because. she couldn’t control how she felt, he was right about that, but she did make the conscious decision to continue her relationship with christian and use him for the attention and affection he provided. “well—that IS how i feel and i really don’t see how it’s going to change,” she mutters half-heartedly. it’s her way of attempting to avoid an argument while also making her feelings known, which has never really been her forte. “but it doesn’t matter anymore, anyway.”

     the only thing dolly could stand less than being hit with a wave of irritation was hearing someone complain about their own. she’s already fidgety and high strung and the sound of fingertips tapping against the screen echo in her own head. even though she does her best to mind her own business, her gaze snaps upwards anyway, landing right on the other with a raised brow. “don’t you know how to work google? ‘cause if not you could probably smash the thing on the ground and solve your problem faster.”