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“ and  that’s  how  you  ended  up  here,  is  it ? ”  syllables  are  hummed,  a glint in his eyes, “ underneath  my  window  .. ”  he’ll  entertain  the  notion  with  a  knowing  smile  he  fails  to  conceal.  in  the  same  manner  he’s  scarcely  subtle  about  how  his  gluttonous gaze  drinks  her  in,  relishing  her  frame  from  head-to-toe  —  like  a  forbidden  fruit  he  shouldn’t  indulge  in.  “ in  a  see-through  night  dress. ”

“ hm, ” it’s the littlest of laughs, or something closely akin to one. a hum of gentle disinterest imbued so very thoroughly with the sweetness of stupidity. “ there’s only so many windows .. so many little alcoves to disappear in .. ” so there she is, beneath his, raw pink and humidly shining and pressed so cleanly flush against the cultivated filth of moss and limestone. her hair still wet and running rivulets of gauzy translucence down the swathe of muslin and lace gum stuck to every part of her that swells, her finger trailing one half of her hem up and up and up the still damp of her thigh like a stage curtain, “ i can’t help that this is my favorite of them all. ” she slips a cigarette case rattling indecorously with prescription sedatives and lazily rolled joints from beneath the taut elasticity ribboning demarcation lines into the flesh of her hip, she unspools the fistful of too delicate fabric from the taut twist of her hand and lets it sway so chastely back to its full length. all this passes in an instant, and what is left of her peep show is an old and slightly unraveling joint. unlit and slotted in disappointing substitution into the aperture between her lips. “ shouldn’t you be somewhere else ? ” innocuous. insouciant. “ i thought maddie had an early bedtime on weekdays. ”

cw : sexual / suggestive content, partial nudity, stripping, body image

click  the  source  link  to  gain  access  to  #952  gifs  of  charles  melton  in  beef:  season  2  ( 2026 ).  charles  is  korean  &  white &  was  born  in  1991,  so  cast  accordingly.  please  do  not  edit  these  gifs  without  permission,  use  to  roleplay  real  people,  use  in  krp,  taboo  or  smut  threads,  redistribute  or  claim  as  your  own.  like  &  reblog  if  you  plan  on  using!

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“ now  you  can’t  possibly  believe  i’m  that  stuck  up,  johnny. ”  honeyed  manner  she  utters  his  name  is  almost  intimate,  giving the pretense of  two  old  friends  catching  up,  if not for  the  months  of  ceased  communication.  and  there’s  the  evident  discrepancy  of  her  well-groomed  attire,  decked  out  in  designer  from  head  to  toe,  sticking  out  like  a  sore  thumb  as  she  sought  him  out  to  obtain  the  little  baggy  in  his  possession,  to  sustain  that  insatiable  appetite.  “ i  come  all  the  way  here  to  see  how  you’re  doing  and  this  is  how  you  repay  me ? ”

“ and here i was thinking you just happened to be in the neighborhood. i’m touched, really. ” he thrusts himself erect from a shoulder set slouch against the barstool with the loose boned length of his arm. almost gallant in the dim, dust furred light swaying overhead, almost perverse, how he stoops to splay the wear soften skin of a shed coat across the dried beer treacly layering itself night after night after night into a gummy, peel back scab on the bowled indentation of his ceded seat. “ thing is — happy hour's ten a.m. to noon, ” he drops his hand against the dressed wood, motions for her to sit. if the intent was to mock, he’s made a rather princely parody of himself in the process. “ if you came all the way here for a good deal, you're a little late. ”

she  scoffs,  a  sound  resembling  a  hollowed  laugh  —  not  malicious  but  rather  disbelief.  there’s  nothing  amusing  about  the  tension  lingering  in  the  space  between  them.  an  unspoken  strain  that  has  existed  for  a  long  time  now.   “ i  just  don’t  get  it. ”  but  she  does,  she’s  all  too  aware  of  fabricating  excuses  for  someone  less  than  deserving.  she  feels  a  distinct  pang  in  her  chest  at  the  notion,  “ why  are  you  still  with  him ? ”

“ i guess i just don't know who else to be, ” if it is, perhaps, a grotesquely diminished thing to say, it's simply because she is. a salt - encrusted and vanilla stoli steeped bauble cross - legged in the center of the sofa and sweat - stuck to its leather. odysseus' debauched penelope excised, not so charmingly, of all complexity, “ i guess i just wouldn't know where to put it all down. ” she lights another pall mall with the ruby - red glower of the last and drops the still hot excess into the crevasse between the cushions. a writhing little thing asphyxiating itself to leave the faintest of marks. she watches it dutifully like she understands, like she owes it at least that. a witness. “ if it's a scene you're all worried about, you can tell him i'm calm. ” a hot, solid pause. cryptic silence. long enough for a sillage of chewed - up smoke to thread itself through the stale humidity of the room, obscuring, blurring, until it's opaque enough to almost believe this is something else entirely. she finally lifts her head and looks at her so closely it hurts the starved wide blacks of her eyes. “ but really, i guess i just don't see why it matters. ”

“  would’ve  been  slightly  more  fun  as  a  threat  “  holds  her  gaze  for  as  long  as  he  manages,  then  finally  allowing  his  eyes  to  find  the  bottom  of  his  glass,  liquid  tossed  down  his  throat  in  a  quick  move  before  he  refocuses  his  attention.  “  but  i’m  sure  we  can  find  something  that  won’t  make  that  necessary,  for  neither  of  us  “  and  with  that,  he  removes  the  gun  from  his  waist,  resting  it  against  the  table  in  a  pathetic  move. 

“ how disappointing, ” polished steel is lain delicately, intolerably so, against inlaid mahogany like a sacrificed pawn. a terribly trivial gambit to have been made, but she feels put in her place all the same. she doesn't flinch. she simply drops the weight of her head into a hard jutted, no fripperies, brutalist tilt. raw concrete swathed in raw silk. “ i almost thought you clever. what is it about a little girl tying up her father's loose ends that you can't seem to handle without a few extra inches ? ” her own meager hand is played then, a stack of paper miming a desperately dubious deck of all the gossamer, rare paneled cigar room dealings and scotch soaked information she wished to rid herself of. an unauthorized investigation. an unauthorized visit. in other words, a sitting duck with a belly full of canine teeth. slice her open and see what happens. “ i like my life. i like my job. you understand the importance of trust, don’t you ? how imperative it is that i keep it ? ”

“  i’m  trying  to  keep  my  head  above  the  water,  you  know  things  are  never  that  simple  “  surely,  she’d  crossed  lines  she  swore  to  never  getting  close  to  and  the  game  she  was  playing  now  —  having  too  many  important  man  on  her  roster  of  clients  —  was  far  more  dangerous  than  she  ever  imagined  could  happen.  “  we  can’t  all  afford  to  keep  our  hands  clean  “

“ no, but there's plenty of mud pits to roll around in, ” there, in the low light of a 24 hour a day bar, she's all packaged up like a parcel in the cigarette razed booth across from him. a domestic item among a specialist's taste of rare, foreign, vintage debasements for sale. someone comes, or perhaps someone goes. in any case, there's the delicate clinking of beaded curtains undulating and obfuscating the graffiti scrawled entrance to signal the dissolution of backlit reverie. he glances quickly away, like he's been caught wanting something he can't afford. “ peddle your shit to someone else's client book, or find somewhere else to go the next time you're in over your head. ” bought things are so often discarded when inconvenient, and they're both a different brand of quick - fix commodity. “ it's as simple as that. ”

"see the problem with leaving it is the fact that you haven't said a word worth me listening to since i got here ." drawls over the music pounding outside the bathroom door . "so tell me again , chaz . make it believable this time ."

“ just don’t have much left to say. ” voice drags lazy and slow as the smoke unfurling from the red roach end of a cigarette. he leans back to put it out, put it down, in the white basin of the sink, beer soaked and white powdered laminate sticky slick beneath the weight of denim and skin. something caught and writhing in a nostalgia damp glue trap. “ you want your shit, silver ? is that it ? ” fingertips dip into the depths of his front pocket to extricate a lighter, her lighter, and come up clean. or rather, cleaner. there’s still a faint sheen of insinuation glittering on the raw flesh of his fingertips. something that clings. he braces a palm against the back of her neck, free hand moving to tuck that slip of a thing, cheap and plasticine, behind her ear. “ that's everything i've got, ” gaze sloshes to the side like a long - necked bottle tipped over and frothing with backwash and asphyxiated things. blunts, cigarettes, promises. grotesque reminiscence. a half something lilts his lips upward. neither grin nor leer. “ might still be a pair of panties you forgot beneath the couch, but you never did leave much of anything behind. ”