#theyperform

It's hard to keep his eyes off Harley, once they're in his line of vision. Hard not to look at someone so uniquely beautiful, someone he's gotten so close to. Spying him at an event is a bit rare - but Mars loves a surprise. Anything to light some kind of spark in his lately dull and ineffectual life. Seeing them, well. It's like kerosene on a wildfire. And they're every bit as hot, and Mars's hands burn to touch. Instead, he's nearby and trying to catch his eye near the champagne table. The second Harley's turned, Mars slips fingers through the loops of those nice slacks and tugs him closer. "Hey." Voice quiet in a rumble close to the other's ear. "Missed seein' that face. Havin' a fun time? Or should we blow this place and grab a drink somewhere cheaper and better?"

This shift seemed endless, and all she wanted to do was go home. And that sleazebag couldn't understand or accept the word 'no' which resulted in a nasty cut on her left waist. Elizabeth was hidden in the corner on the backstage but wasn't crying. It was her time to be upstage, once more in that night. This is when she sees Harley. She wondered if they were looking to warn her it was her turn to be there. The blood was dripping that came from her waist, oozing between her fingers. She tries to distract them, telling them everything is fine… But then, Harley approached noticing what was wrong, gently removing her hand from her cut, helping to clean it up. And probably, she would need some stitches. ❛ Thank you. ❜

So he hadn't won the goddamn date. Then he'd been pestered about buying the date back because the person who did win the goddamn date was married and just did it to cause chaos. And meanwhile, Mars is trying to figure out why he'd cared so much about the date - enough to sink over $8K into it anyways - in the first place. Not sure. Maybe he's just... tired of not going for what he wants.

The architect's been out of sorts for a few weeks. He'd fucked off upstate for a bit, gotten to camp and see the stars, and just be. Just him and Zachary on long car rides. Soul searching in cabins and tents. Sometimes the back of his car. And hiking, and being alone.

And now he's got a date (that didn't cost 8K) - and hasn't exactly told Harley where they're going. Just to dress nice. He steps out of his car and leans against it when he sees Harley stepping out of their place. "Now, you're sure you want to go out with the auction loser, babes?" He teases. "I can hop right back in my car and act like nothing ever happened." Still, he slips a hand around the other's waist, and bends to kiss his cheek. "You look fucking lovely, but that's no surprise."

Val has no pretense for inviting them over beyond selfishness. Warmth in Harley’s hands, a perfect and pretty mouth that Val loves to trace with practiced fingers. Wine and some type of take-away sure. Maybe music playing, who knows?

But the closeness is what Val misses. Things have been awry, and everything’s felt like a finished puzzle had just a few handfuls of it thrown off into corners of the room. Crumbled. A return to normalcy in strong arms and giggling stupidity with Harley… that sounds exciting. It sounds necessary. So when Val hears the knocking, they ease up to their feet, following the wall with one hand to the door. Val has wild and messy hair, stubbly from a few days inside writing. Pale eyes stay unfocused, but shine as usual with mischief. And they wear not much at all- some old and large shirt that’s more of a dress than anything, with a few of their usual pendants and rings adorning skin and fingers. “‘m never letting it get this long without a visit again.” Val says with a frown, as they reach out arms needily for the other.