#phantom troupe

the rest of the troupe laughed, dropping fingers casually. you held your hand firm, keeping your finger up, hoping your blank face masked the heat rising up your neck.

you hadn't left your cot all morning, and feitan's scent was still clinging to the collar of your shirt.

feitan didn't even smile. he leaned forward, the shadows catching the high collar of his coat. slowly, without taking his eyes off yours, he raised his own gloved hand and reached across the short gap between your crates.

he didn't push your finger down. instead, his long, gloved thumb hooked under yours and forced it up—holding your middle finger high in the air for the whole room to see—before forcing the rest of your hand into a tight fist around it.

"you put down" feitan muttered, his voice a low, raspy threat that vibrated through the cold air.

"unless you want me tell them how loud you were this morning."

shizuku blinked, phinks whistled, and your face burned so hot you felt lightheaded.

phinks

"put a finger down if you’ve ever cried during sex" shalnark wheezed, clearly trying to embarrass uvo.

a few fingers went down with lighthearted groans. you kept yours up, crossing your arms and staring at the cracked floorboards.

phinks was standing right behind your chair, his massive arms crossed over his chest, listening to the game with a bored smirk. the second shalnark finished his sentence, phinks let out a loud, mocking snort.

before you could react, his heavy, calloused hand came down over your shoulder. his thick fingers wrapped around yours, casually forcing your middle finger down until your hand closed completely.

"put it down, shorty" phinks rumbled, his deep voice carrying over everyone else's giggles as he squeezed your hand tight enough to feel his pulse.

"you wept like a baby last night when i wouldn't let you come. don't lie to the group."

a chorus of wild "oohs" and laughing catcalls erupted from the troupe. you buried your burning face in your free hand while phinks just patted your head like a dog, entirely unbothered.

hisoka

"put a finger down" machi said, her voice dry as dust, "if you're holding a secret that would get you killed."

you hesitated. your finger wobbled in the air. you were hiding something—not from the troupe, but from the magician currently shuffling a deck of cards across the circle.

hisoka didn't speak. he didn't even use his hands.

a thin, invisible string of bungee gum snapped taut against your raised finger. with a sudden, sharp tug, your finger was pulled down violently, snapping into your palm before you could even register the pink glow fading from the air.

when you whipped your head toward him, hisoka was already leaning in, his golden eyes glowing with a dangerous, predatory tilt. he slid a single playing card between his fingers, pointing the sharp edge right at your throat.

"down, my little secret" hisoka purred, his voice a low, theatrical hum that made the hair on your arms stand up. you don't get to pretend you're innocent when my marks are still fresh under your collar."