seen from United States
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seen from T1
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she’s really pretty, and it’s really annoying. there’s a dopey smile on her face, head cocking to the side, and she dips her head forward to brush her nose against gen’s. testing waters. ❛ -- you smell really good.. i’m low-key offended. ❜
written for @fortunefavours / they ♡ this.
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With 50 years in the running, Stevie had become somewhat the face of the Grand Hotel in the Kelemen Quarter. The place was owned by some of the higher crime guys in the Kitsune District, but it was Stevie’s job to cover that up with a more charming, friendlier apparel. Which is exactly what he was here doing at one of the hotel’s annual variety shows. A lot had changed since the 50s, but in the City of Darkness, they really knew how to put on a show; especially here. Though he plead to take a night off, Stevie couldn’t ignore the work that clearly wasn’t getting done. Which is why he was standing here at the ledge of the bar. “Starting a tab?”
“ of course i think it’s bullshit, you don’t need to be a mind reader to know that. ” @melindafields
“ i didn’t ask you if you thought it was bullshit or not; in fact, i couldn’t care less. ”
Saerena was still reeling with the excitement of placing second in the archery tournament. Her good mood was buttressed further by the two offers extended by both the King and Lady Bane to join their respective guards.
As Saerena walked through the halls of the Red Keep, she had a sort of bounce in the ball of her feet while she fantasized about what life would be like if her brother approved for her to join the Bane House Guard. Of course he would approve. There was no reason for Jon to want her to stick around Winterfell permanently as some sort of wild spinster--and he had to know of her absolute revulsion of marriage. It was these thoughts that occupied her mind while she strolled and it was these thoughts that distracted her from where she was going.
“I beg your pardon,” the wolf girl snapped as she recovered from the collision.
“OKAY, okay, I’m here. Who needs healing?” Foster huffed as he recovered from almost tripping as he ran into the Infirmary. He brought his hand to his forehead to rub away some sweat and the hair from his face.
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“...I fucking hate waking up in the morning and feeling like I have a fucking hangover, when I didn’t even drink last night.”
“I got plenty of nude photos sent to my phone today.. — I think they might have got the wrong number.”
STarter with petitjournaliste
This wasn’t something he was expecting at all. Sakharine awkwardly held the door open, stunned silent. He was rarely in a state of not knowing what to do with himself. But here was Tintin, of all people, and he had no idea what to do or say. Maybe runaway and pretend he wasn’t there? But, he was shackled. Not literally, but he was on parole, but under house arrest. His every move was monitored.
And why was he here? Unraveling another mystery, no doubt, but what had Sakharine to do with that? or was he simply checking up on him?
What to do...?
He finally straighten up, cleared his throat and said “Well, what are you doing here, Tintin? Paying an old friend a visit? Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I am not allowed unexpected visitors.”
