#bittenichtstoren

He’s late, of course. Twelve minutes, to be exact... which, to be fair, is not especially awful. 

He made the reservation - eight PM, as promised, and sent a message to Alice around 3pm with the address of the restaurant - it wasn’t his first choice, given the short notice of calling his favourite. But he’s been there on numerous occasions - often alone, and he needs a familiar environment. 

It’s not too dimly lit - not too much emphasis on the romantic, with a combination of booths and tables. When Eli enters the venue, he’s glad to be told that they’ll be situated by the window - a welcome distraction for any awkward silences, the gentle hum of traffic outside and pedestrians walking by. 

As the waiter leads him through, he can see Alice already seated; he’s still wearing his suit from earlier, no time to go home and change. He did make sure to re-slick his hair after one too many nervous breakdowns throughout the afternoon. Checking his watch during his approach, he clears his throat. She’s looking at her phone; most likely anticipating him to cancel - he can’t say he hasn’t been forced to do so in the past. 

“...Hi.”

Eli slides into his chair, taking the offered menu from the waiter; the waiter hands another to Alice, then disappears. 

He’d kept the sleeve with the girl’s number, despite his better judgment - folded it into his pocket when he threw away the coffee cup. Still, he didn’t call. What would he say? Eli’s not modest enough to think such a thing could never be legitimate - he cuts a good figure in his suits, he carries himself well, and there’s something of his more self-assured youth that remains in his eyes. But he’s been through it, relationship-wise, so there’s also a hesitance. 

He’d be lying if he said she wasn’t pretty. That makes this difficult. 

It’s almost a week later when he finds his way back to the coffee shop. Is he looking for her? No, not really, maybe. He’s in the area. For some reason, he’s more comfortable with hanging around than actually keying in that number on the piece of flimsy cardboard. 

Sitting in the corner by the window - rare for him, to actually pause to eat or drink or exist - he orders a large americano, because he can stay there and nurse it while waiting. Waiting, because the flirty barista isn’t at the counter. Eli might have just left - but no, he lingers, just in case. Why, exactly? He isn’t sure. He can’t ask for her by name, as he doesn’t know it. Besides, they’d probably think she was his uncle, or whatever. 

Halfway down the cup, his phone rings, and it’s a call he has to take. Unfortunately, it isn’t a good one, either. 

“...What?! Jesus. No, no, no... wait, slow down. You’re not helping me. Where is Lisa? Can you--- oh, great, well... of course she is. No, listen. Listen!” His mood has rapidly run along to exasperation. He sighs - huffs, even, shutting his eyes briefly for personal clarity. 

“---Calm down. No, do not talk. To anyone. Anyone! I’ll come to the office in half an hour. Oh, and tell Lisa to get back.” 

“---Uriyah!” 

Felix has no qualms in talking down to criminals - although they are his bread and butter, he’s still above them in more ways than one. He feels no kinship with them, or with anyone, for that matter. 

He regards Ivan with a withering look, already bored of his insistence on wasting time. 

“---As I said earlier. I strongly advise you not to testify.” This isn’t advice - it’s a command. 

a spilling tea text

[from: dimi] well, it is... you see

[from: dimi] i shouldn’t say this but

[from: dimi] PERCEVAL is a well known rider of the carousel, iyswim

[from: dimi] and i would KNOW!

[from: dimi] though i can’t remember the last time he woke up in MY sheets..

4)  sender takes receiver’s chin between their fingers while receiver is smiling or laughing so they can kiss their dimple.

They’re drunk, of course, though it’s only a marginally altered state for them - Benji’s eyes sparkle as he laughs, and he barely takes any pause when Uri takes his face in his hand - he announces first what he’s going to do. A kiss is planted deep into the tiny crease, and he smiles even more widely, his own hand on Uri’s shoulder, grasping affectionately. 

[ CARESS ]  for the taller muse to pick up the shorter one to kiss them.

Felicity opens her mouth to speak, most likely to say something sweetly sarcastic, but finds herself shushed by Ira's lips - and swept up so her toes no longer touch the ground, gripped by strong hands at her hips, and pressed gently - gently for him - against the wall. He lets go with his left hand simply to squeeze his fingers at her thigh, eliciting a quiet noise from her throat.

Ira pauses to look at her, mouth hovering just above, seemingly satisfied with how he's disciplined her. Low, but with a tender, wicked smile, he says---

[ TAKE ]  for the taller muse to find the shorter one has ‘borrowed’ a shirt/sweater/jacket etc.  which is oversized on them.

A lot of Alessio's clothes are intentionally oversized - that's the fashion now. Blazers and jackets are cut loosely. But he does tend towards tighter shirts to fit his slender frame, particularly on stage. That is, if he isn't bare-chested, clad only in his tattoos and piercings with leather to accent.

He didn't quite expect to walk into his room and see Sidney wearing one of his pieces - though a very barely-there one, a ruffled black lace shirt that drops a little longer than the hips, gaping at the sides, but not too much.

Sidney has been playing with his makeup, too.

Alessio pauses in the doorway with a smile, waiting for Sidney to notice his presence as he studies the mirror. He doesn't notice.