a box full of sharp objects

    “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” she whispered, a soft exhalation leaving slightly parted lips as she peered into the shark-filled tank – then turned a cautionary look onto the person currently leaning against the railing. “All it would take is one eensy weensy MISHAP for poor you to fall into those shark-infested waters.” To emphasize her point, Keto pressed her palms against the railing and gave it a good jostling, a small smile grazing her lips all the while. “So scary.”

“Liar,” he countered with a knowing chuckle, eyeing the woman with barely banked curiosity. What was the point in hiding the fact that his interest had been piqued by someone who seemed to possess a bit of a mischievous heart? “Ye secretly want the railing ta give way and send me ta my doom.” It was written all over her face ... or could be her smile that was giving him such dark vibes. “But the thing ye should really be asking yerself is: what did those poor sharks do ta get cursed with my presence?”

   ▎ “Have you ever had the pleasure of bearing witness to the choreographed water show put on by the Fountains of Bellagio?”

“If yer referring ta my infamous depantsing scene, then I must applaud ye on yer taste.”

“Is it against man’s law to own a bobcat?”

“Nay,” he answered pleasantly, a deceptively sweet, helpful air about him - mischief at its finest. “’tis the verra thing man wishes ye ta do - procure a bobcat for yer pleasure and no one else’s.” So that when it got loose, it could wreak havoc all throughout Las Vegas.

Eris took in the tired looking man. She didn’t know if he was actually tired, but his eyes seemed to suggest so. Arching her brow high, she scoffed, grip tightening on the wannabe thief’s wrist. Blue gaze scanned his body, her other hand pulling on her purse. “You know exactly what the hell I’m talking about. Your hand was basically lead with how it knocked into me.” Her lie cam easily. She’d actually barely felt him touch her and for all she knew he could of been picking fuzz of her vest. However, Eris wasn’t one for the benefit if the doubt. The Goddess could feel that the pair were drawing a crowd. “Yeah it is. I’ll give you six seconds to confess or I can make a rather large scene about all if this.”

To suggest that his hand, a slender, nimble appendage used often to trick those foolish enough to cross the path of an impish vough on a mischief bender, had been far too easy to take heed of despite the swiftness with which it moved - and the light brush of fingertips, barely felt - was rather insulting. And clearly a lie. “If it was that heavy, I’m surprised I didn’t knock ye over,” Teàrlach replied, shaking his fist at the cloudless sky. “Curse this damnable strength I was born with.” Dramatically uttered, made even more so in his thickly accented voice. “Ye think ta scare me with yer threat?” He scoffed, amused at the thought of another attempting to play him for a fool. “I’m used ta drawing a crowd.” First - with the unsanctioned swim he’d taken in the Fountains of Bellagio, and then - with the countless bars he’d been banned from for the misuse of water. What was one more scene to add to the list?

The sun shone brightly as she exited the Casino. The night shift was horrible. A bunch of horny assholes acting like they have enough money to buy her the world. Ha, yeah right. Moving past the security guard, she gave a quick nod entered the fray of tourist that lined the streets at ten a.m. Fools, she thought to herself, keeping her bag close. No need to, honestly, but living in such close proximity with humans put the goddess’s guard up. Pickpockets, gropers, they all walked among us. With a sigh, she rolled her head back and felt the bones there tense and pop. Just as she lowered her chin again, she felt a hand graze past her bag. Reflexes still quick, the woman grabbed the arm that connected and twisted, turning to face the person as she did so. She hadn’t rode into war with her brother and not learned anything.

One. Two. Three. Score. A dark, playful grin split his lips as he slipped up behind a lone woman presumably making her way home - or at the very least to her car. Randomly selecting her out of the crushing swarm of pedestrians crowding the street, Teàrlach slowly extended his hand toward the back of her shirt, fingers lightly - almost feather light - grazing the top of her bag, stopping just shy of her shirt. But that didn’t seem to matter to her, seeing as - before he could truly make his move - she swiftly seized his arm in a tight grasp and spun to face him, her reflexes surprisingly quick; they would have caught him off guard if he hadn’t already prepared himself for such an outcome. 

He wanted. 

Devour. Such a strong word - but fitting when one took into account the hunger in the man’s gaze ... and the fury. “Then why hold back?” A simple question. Why hold back when he so obviously wanted to gorge himself on the flesh of the one who’d made the mistake of angering him? But the vough had also followed his gaze to where several security cameras had been installed in the shop - to prevent theft, he was certain. 

The dark haired young man had been minding his own business. Hands shoved furtively into the front pockets of his jeans, Lorcan had been attempting to navigate his way through the heavy crowd of people bustling and shoving at each other on the small sidewalk. This, perhaps, was one of the things he enjoyed the least about this city. It was too big, and way too full for Lorcan’s liking. He couldn’t quite recall where he’d been before Vegas, it was all a blur. He was, however, damned near certain it wasn’t as overcrowded at this. Tucking his chin into his chest and ignoring the way those in the crowd jostled him, he pushed solemnly through them, attempting for the most part to avoid the touch and confrontation of others around him.

For a creature of his ... proclivities, it was rarely easy for him to successfully identify the perfect dupe candidate to force into one of his games, childish though they could be at times. But this one - this tired-looking young man with his remarkably quiet, unassuming presence - fit the bill, almost to a tee. A nice, considerate fellow would have taken one look at those dark circles under the other male’s eyes and excused himself, looking elsewhere for his entertainment. But Teàrlach wasn’t at all familiar with the concept of making nice with strangers - or anyone, really - nor did he know how to imitate kindness. That was like asking a common carp to keep away from algae. Impossible. Besides, he was bored, and this man looked as though he was going out of his way to avoid unnecessary conversation, perhaps even social interactions of any kind. 

Tempting, the rage there was tempting, and his skin bubbled to press his fingernails into her own flesh, to rake her body until he drew blood. He wanted to eat her heart, to devour the meat of her slim form, tear her limb from limb until she couldn’t scream anymore. But Marla wouldn’t approve, because Marla wasn’t here, and he was already in trouble over a damn sweater. 

Leaving? No. No. NO. How could he leave without at least gouging her eye out, preferably her stronger one? Or ... or ripping her fingernail off as payment for irritating him with her utter disregard for his words? She’d been so terribly dense - so ignorant of what he truly wanted and woefully incapable of grasping the fact that he wasn’t shopping for himself but for another, most likely someone who held special value to him - that the least he could do was ensure she never allowed the bug of idiocy to bite her again. 

“We-we could go get coffee, or-or go to a movie? You would have to put clothes on, but-or theres pools!”

“Coffee.” Uttered with just enough skepticism to warrant a disappointed frown - because it exemplified Teàrlach’s intention of ignoring that rather dull alternative. “That’s yer brilliant idea? Go get coffee?” He clucked his tongue at him; a gesture meant to convey his own displeasure. In what universe would someone even offer the suggestion of grabbing a cup of coffee as a prospect for entertainment? 

“Look, ma’am,” Venom painted his tone, turning his tongue barbed and sharp, and there was a near-hiss to his breath. His skin burned, he had been outside and without water for far too long, and he ached to submerge his fingertips in something hot and sticky, whether it be water or blood, he didn’t care in that instant. “I’m just lookin’ for a God damned sweater, in pink. Any fucking shade of pink.”

Quality entertainment. That was what the scene between a customer and the sales representative currently unfolding was fast becoming - and if there was anything Teàrlach knew, it was entertainment. “Mebbe she’s hard of hearing?” He interjected without a care in the world, more than amused by what was transpiring. “Or possesses that - what do they call it? Ah! - selective hearing?” Considering how furious the other male was, it was a wonder the woman was even willing to speak to him. Perhaps she lacked common sense ... Or failed at deciphering the warning her instincts should have hand-delivered her when the supremely unhappy customer began to raise his voice at her. 

He couldn’t help himself, pouting at the other man’s words, lips folding quickly into a downcast expression. He wasn’t a fool, he knew that he wasn’t, and yet- there was no convincing this man of the merits of his character it seemed. So Darcy frowned, staring at the other man as he tangled his long limbs together. 

Very few people were ever truly appreciative of Teàrlach’s idea of entertainment - which was fine; because he often derived enjoyed from forcing situations upon others which clearly made them uncomfortable. And when he decided to intensify one’s level of uncomfortableness by spreading a little hate here and there ... Well, you could understand why this vough had trouble connecting with people on a personal level. Bully for them.

He wasn’t sure how much he liked this man, or this game. Worse, he knew he didn’t like this game, hated it, actually, but he wasn’t as certain of this man as he had previously been. 

Aye, well, a fool doesn’t know it’s a fool until the dice has been cast,” he chaffed, arms spread wide as he leaned backward, contentment easily finding its way onto his otherwise coltish features. By this time, he would have either attempted to drown the man or lure him away from the public’s eye - in order to let the vough out to have its fun. But for some, strange reason, Teàrlach was in no mood to do so.