Master of the House

his train of thought however was interrupted by a face the evening and his intoxication rendered unreadable; shadows tossed from nearby street- lights painting him as only half a man, vibrant attire at least recognizable enough for grantaire to cease in his stumbling to lean against the wall of a nearby store and address the offer at hand. wine, at a fair price? well, whether it was at a fair price or not had yet to be established but it was wine and wine indeed was always fair to him. no takers stepped forward, at the amusement of the cynic, who instead stood and whistled some merry tune as he waited to see who might buy such a thing. no-one? not a soul  spoke up above the crowd of folk desperate to return to a warm bed and a warmer wife, leaving grantaire to muse whether this might be some poetic destiny.

         ❝ for how much is the                   charge? ❞

he finally inquired, words slurred enough to secure his apparent drunkenness to even the  most blind mute though not so slurred that his intentions were dissolved along with his manners.

     M. Thénardier knows all too well never to allow another a sample of his wares without first surmounting that the man has payment enough for the sample to be worth sharing. However, considering the bottle full of piss in his hand, he isn't too terribly picky about the price. And so, when the stranger asks for a fair price, Thénardier allows him to set it. "Whichever price you think fair. I am a trusting man, after all. I have no reason to believe you a liar and a thief! I truly believe you will give me a fair price." And some, considering.

As such, John was caught up in the large bout of rain which followed, soaking him down to the bone in his clothing and clinging to his mood to make it just as downcast. Finding shelter under a building’s cloth arch, he stripped out of his coat and made to place it over his head. Perhaps he had underestimated the weather, being lured to better days. Or worse,  depending on how one would look at it.

     And that is exactly how the innkeeper was able to procure an umbrella, just in time for the rain to start.

     Thénardier was silently grinning at the memory of his perfect heist as he held a pink princess umbrella in his hand when he heard a voice from behind. A man who appeared to have decided to wash himself, clothes and all, in the showers of nature. It was a challenge not to laugh in his face as he turned around and heard of the man's plea for charity. But, in this plea, he saw an opportunity.

Dare my muse to do something, if they refuse, they have to admit an embarrassing secret about themself.

「 ⋈ 」 He wouldn’t have been Natasha’s first choice, that was for sure. He smelled of liquor and dirt, and had hair — red, but a different hue to hers — that looked like it hadn’t been washed in a while.

Nonetheless, giving him a kiss seemed like a better option than giving him a secret. She had no doubt that it would end a secret not well kept, thrown around as a casual story to a stranger or harboured away until profitable. (And, oh, so many of Natasha’s secrets were very profitable in one way or another.)

"You didn’t specify where, and I am a huge supporter of specificity I’m afraid.” And with that, Natasha leaned up to place a barely-there kiss on the most hairless patch of cheek she could find.

animal - weasel color - orange month - november song - the perfect crime no. 2 number - 35 day or night - night plant - Amorphophallus titanum smell - urine, alcohol, body odor barely masked with cheap cologne gemstone - garnet season - fall place - an cheap motel food - rotten food placed in a meat grinder and served illegally astrological sign - scorpio elements - earth drink - cheap wine