#breteyne

She delicately rested the wooden carving on the table, her body's weight leaning against the edge of the stall, frustration palpable as her tongue explored the recesses of her mouth.

Her head tilted, forcing a venomous smile that curled the corners of her lips into a sinister grin as she faced him.

❛ - That's where the issue lies, you see, ❜

Dolores remarked, leaning forward to select a clean glass for herself and gracefully pouring the liquid into it.

❛ - You seem to believe I do what I do, ❜ she paused, taking a sip while locking eyes with him through the thickness of her furrowed brows,

❛ - To prove myself somehow. My worth, capabilities. I assume you do this because it's the way you see the world, havin' to prove your greatness, and assume others do too - I don't. ❜

She asserted, her voice resonating with confidence. Dolores' hand reached for the kitchen knife. The two of them were tasked by their mother to assist in the kitchen during the family reunion. Otherwise, Dolores found any conversation with this man utterly meaningless, had there been no need to.

The knife's blade sliced into the uncooked chicken. Several hours remained before the rest of their extensive family gathered for dinner, and despite appearances, Dolores, other than her mother, was the only woman in the house. Thus, it fell upon her to handle the cooking.

❛ - I dinna' find any meaning in finding myself in a book, praising me for a woman I am ultimately not," ❜

She continued,

❛ - For example, cleaning a chicken. Let's start with that. Do you know how to clean a chicken, George?" ❜

She asked with a sly grin, extending her hand to pass him the knife.

❛ - You are a man with great talents, are you not? I'm not doubting that. Let's see how you are with the basics of life. ❜

She stated, leaning back into the counter, taking another sip of her drink before folding her arms into a cross, observing him.

❛ - Then maybe my name can get in the books. As a sister who taught the great how to prepare a meal. ❜

Send “⁉” + a command, and my muse has no choice but to do it!! || Accepting

   Oh, fuck no.

      “Do it yourself, you dirty son of a bitch.” That was the last thing he wanted to do. There was no way in hell he was going to do that. He’d gotten this far in life without doing that, and he would happily die before trying it. 

Send 🍆  for my muse’s reaction to being sent a very intentional nude || Accepting

   Oh, he’s pissed. There’s no way in hell he’s putting up with that-- Ever.

crime related starters || Accepting

      "Cute. Ya’ think I’m fuckin’ askin’.” 

   He couldn’t worry himself with every small time drug dealer out there. It just wasn’t reasonable. Despite that, he was definitely not very fond of this one. Why he was being so lenient, god only knew.

NON - SEXUAL   ACTS   OF   DOMINANCE . || Accepting

[ lit ] your muse lighting a cigarette , spliff , etc. for mine .

   He’d have been fight doing that himself. The strange gesture left him confused for a brief moment, taking an almost hesitant drag of the cigarette before speaking, his breath tainted by the rather obnoxiously sweet smell of his fruit flavored cigarettes.

Late Night Wanderings || Accepting

      “No shit. That’s my damn job, y’know.” 

   Causing trouble was what he was famous for. While he certainly didn’t look like much, he was a harbinger of chaos and destruction that no one had found any luck taking care of. The gaudy gold gun at his side was trouble enough, but the way he so casually let his hand come to rest on the hilt should have been concerning to say the least. While his unchanged and casual posture suggested he meant no harm, it was difficult to be certain that wouldn’t change. 

The day was hot and the work was long, but it was nothing the young blonde wasn’t already used to. He liked it, in fact, especially tasks like this in a beautiful garden where he could hear the birds and smell the flowers as he pounded the earth flat and laid bricks for his client’s new patio space. He was also used to having the clients watch him as he worked. Many were perfectionists who liked to make sure he was working efficiently and to their orders. Sometimes they were watching him much more than his labor- not that the young man ever noticed. Flirting often went right over his head, much to the annoyance of more than a few sexually frustrated housewives.