#forgoxorder

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴜᴄᴋ ωʜɪsᴘᴇʀᴇʀ.:

Text: -- Touche.

Text: -- If you stop by, be prepared that someone's sleeping underneath my desk, too.

veɢαѕ' ĸιɴɢ.:

Text: Fucking--

Text: What kind of place are you running here. 

Text: Jesus.

ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴜᴄᴋ ωʜɪsᴘᴇʀᴇʀ.:

Text: They're the ones that followed me.

Text: I've been doing a good job in the journalism department, and--

Text: -- You don't want to know the state of my loft right now.

veɢαѕ' ĸιɴɢ.:

Text: I think I'm going into a panic attack just thinking about it.

Text: Don't mention a mess.

Text: I'll have war flashbacks. 

Text: Do you know how hard it is to make a bed with Chaos in it?

Text: It's like wrestling with Satan. 

     Such confessions never failed to draw out the Sin's curiosity and inevitable concern for staff. 

     There's a reason he chose brawn, sturdy men to keep watch at every entrance available -- and it wasn't for Chaos to bounce around door to door picking a fight or snapping necks. On the other hand, what did he expect?

     These men were essentially trained to protect the establishment and its patrons.           Chaos, though -- well, he was on an entirely different level.

forgoxorder replied to your post: Everybody needs to stop trying so fucking hard.

（٭ಢДಢ٭）△

[ txt ]: is that a cat o’nine tails? [ txt ]:

     Well, this was certainly the very last thing he expected to see at the foot of the door --

     And for a moment, he wonders how long that box had been sitting there, solely for curiosity tied into how many people might've seen the package before he did. He doesn't frequently pay visits to his loft lately, anyway.

     "Oh, fantastic. Things I don't use. Real funny, you piece of shit."

     Except he will use them. Most, at least. With that idea in mind, Avarice pulled his phone out from his pocket and composed a message to his lover, complete with a multimedia attachment of the package opened prior.

     A fleeting pause, as if he were genuinely taking his time to think over his answer. 

     "Ten minutes can't go past without you brushing my thoughts; that's fourteen forty a day, so I'll say a hundred and forty four times 'I think about you' or something like that--" 

      Despite the pop culture reference that may or may not have been used to tinge his response with ambiguity, the affirmation should've been pretty straightforward. Even the smile curved at the corners of his mouth gave it away.