#_inbox

So, when he enters your room and has you stand in front of him, you're nervous. Had you broken one of the arbitrary rules he'd set in his head? (You're beginning to suspect that he doesn't actually care if you go downstairs into the living room without his express approval; he just wants to see you squirm when he puts you on the spot). He has you put your hands out, yes, both of them. There's an awkward pause, and he finally gives whatever he's got to you.

A necklace. A shiny gemstone and a pretty chain. It’s beautiful; maybe you can wear it on your next outing in the city.

It’s so ridiculous that you want to laugh.

And you are, you realize. Dry and disbelieving. What good is a shiny necklace if it’s going to sit around in a murky old house collecting dust? It was out of place between the two of you. You, in old clothes that belonged to the original owners of this house (God knows what Feitan did with them; you lucked out that one of the women who lived here was a similar-ish size to you) and messy hair. Feitan, clad in darkness, and his hair weighed down with grease, and a pricey necklace between you two.

He'd given you jewelry once. An old charm bracelet; it was plastic and looked like a fair prize. You wonder whose vanity he stole that out of. You make a habit of wearing it these days; he'd kept taking looks at your bare wrist when you didn't. This was a little more extreme a gift than a charm bracelet or a parfait cup, though.

Feitan stiffly adjusts the cowl around his neck, lips twitching underneath it. “You don’t like it.” He’s not asking you. You aren’t sure what to tell him, and it hits you that laughing wasn't the right move (albeit awkwardly, and to be fair, it is a ridiculous situation). Who gifts their hostage something like this?

“No, no, it’s… it’s nice.” You’re making it worse. “I really like it.” Feitan looks at you like he wants to call you every name under the sun. Idiot. Ungrateful. Bitch. He doesn’t say anything. He isn't sure exactly what reaction he was hoping for, but you should've been wearing it by now. Maybe even asking him to help you with the clasp.

Oh, sure, the emerald will really make your bruises and chapped lips pop. You can’t remember the last time you even wore any gemstone jewelry that resembled an emerald. This thing didn't look cheap, though. It didn't look second-hand either. You're scared to ask how much it costs. Knowing him, you doubt any money exchanged hands.

In any other situation, you might have been thrilled to receive an expensive piece of jewelry. Might've even jumped into the arms of your suitor with delight.

Is that what Feitan thought he was? A suitor?

...You aren't sure what your relationship to him was. No ransom ever seemed to be paid out to him, so this was more than just a hostage situation. He never had you put out or anything of the sort, most days you felt like a pet or a maid. A Roomba, more like. Clean up, make dinner when permitted, and scurry back to your room. He's still staring at you, and it makes you shift awkwardly on your feet, another nervous noise escaping you. Fuck, is he actually getting annoyed?

"This... this is really nice." You barely manage to get the words out. You want to ask why, but it seems that each time you open your mouth, he becomes more irate. "I-" Before you can finish, Feitan takes the necklace back, swiping it out of your hands. He's quick to turn on his heel and leave, slamming the door behind him and leaving you in an uncomfortable silence.

i just think it’s fun because phinks is used to using force or aggression to get what he wants, that’s part of the whole “being in a troupe full of killers and thieves” shtick. he can’t strong-arm you into being in a relationship with him (i mean, he already kidnapped you, he might as well go all the way)…

Definitely the type to randomly raise his voice at you and then backtrack after two minutes because he feels bad. For all of the stalking he’s done, you’d think he’d have a better idea on how to interact with you. If you make any sudden movements, Phinks grabbing at you immediately as if you’re trying to run away. He wouldn’t blame you if you were. Maybe. He apologizes after, for what it’s worth.