#notsaints

ㅤ❝ 𝐬𝐨 . . . 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲, 𝐡𝐮𝐡? ❞ it's something easy, curiosity marked with a quirk of the corner of his lips. hands sit at his lap, nicely folded while his posture screams amusement. it's all in good humor, a warm tease. ❝ you're not going to go 𝚙𝚜𝚢𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚊𝚗𝚊𝚕𝚢𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚕𝚜? ❞

ㅤ❝ 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 man i've ever encountered . . . the way you control a room . . . ❞ he trails off into a blissful sigh, head tipping back against the couch, tipping his gaze upwards ― wanting to butter spencer up. ❝ surely someone as in control as you could do me a favor by 𝚐𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚎 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎? ❞

ㅤ❝ 𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 with something? ❞ it's accompanied with a kiss to his jaw. her hand slipping to lace their fingers together ― guiding him to the task so that he might make a proper decision before answering. ❝ i was thinking . . . ❞ she begins, hand giving another squeeze. standing before multiple laid out menus. ❝ a nice fancy dinner . . . a date night, no real reason, just romance and getting away . . . 𝚝𝚑𝚘𝚞𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜? ❞

ㅤ𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞, flesh torn & red. his clothes stained in dried blood, the metallic tang still palpable, it catches his eye repeatedly where he sits. he's been listening in silence while father 'paul' continues on & on ― trying to claim this as some holy act. bullshit. there's no holiness in this, in fact it feels more like hell. maybe that's just what he deserves, a final sentence for his sins. ❝ can we stop? a break from your preaching. ❞ his head pounds, the world ringing in his ears, a horrifyingly familiar feeling. ❝ i'm tired, okay? i don't want any 𝚐𝚘𝚍 𝚝𝚊𝚕𝚔 𝚛𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚗𝚘𝚠. ❞