Bar
"She usually is," they agree. Dee is usually right.

an amused snort of a sound. "I will keep that in mind."

It is a tippy high five, and you don't knock them over, so much as they overbalance - which means there's the high five, and immediately that's followed by their hand falling to your shoulder to try and stay upright.

"You're clever, don't get on your bad side?" That's what they learned, anyway.

It's a bit of a muddle, maybe the alcohol isn't helping. But sober, it was too painful.

"I do love Dee," he agrees, "and we were kind of fighting about Holly the whole time? I - I didn't realize shit, and then made bad choices, and - sorry, this isn't clarifying anything. Um." He thinks. "Also, my parents disowned me."

It's pretty close. You managed that muddle like a pro, truly.

"Okay, see - you're too sober, and I'm too not sober - so debating is, like hard." Because you haven't convinced him he's not a horrible person.

The heartbroken yearning of the song returns to his face. "Yeah, that's what I want. It's not what she wants." A blink. "I mean, it was, but she's poly, so it's fairly casual and, like, the mistakes been made. I can't unmake it. I offered to never speak to Holly again, and go to therapy, and do couples' therapy, but... she didn't want that." It still hurts his heart.

"Holly's kind of the only good thing in my life right now. I don't know what I'd be doing without her. She helped me get an apartment, and she's, like, fun to be around. And I don't... there's no one else, and my parents cut me off, so I'm in a bind, financially, because I was living with Dee, and paying off Juilliard, so - Holly's been helping me get on my feet."

Oh, yeah, they are also confused. About many things.

Luxor Heights
You plucked his strings like that guy from NovaChrist, who's electro-harp accompanied their Melodic Doom-metal like an angel surveying a battlefield.

You motion for him to move and he does so, Edging up against the door and lining up as flat as he could. His eyes widen as you Goldilocks yourself onto the beat-up couch. Mike inhales, feels the sting of his ribs, and holds his breath…

The door swings open, And Krank continues his conversation "—Didja see his stats though? six concussions given at the combine. That has like, never happened before. Choom is gonna be Elite."

Peter the Eater responded... "Heheheheh Yeah, Yeah, Krank, He's gonna be so good!"

Krank continued, as if he was talking to himself... "But, His lateral movement is a big 'if', you know? Does he have the footspeed to throw down those meaty blocks when the game is on the line?"

"Oh, hehehehe, Yeah yeah, absolutely, you're right, Krank, does he even have the stuff when it's time to pl— hey, who's that?"

Krank followed the pointed finger of Peter the Eater, and looked to MILLIE sprawled out on the couch. "Pete, did you order me a Mox for my birthday?"

Peter, looking between MILLIE and the larger Krank, nods profusely "Heheheheh Of course, of course of course. Happy Birthday, Krank!"

If you could possibly see behind them, you would see the glint of metal as Mike has slipped on one set of knuckle dusters, and was quietly going through his pants to get the other....

on her knees

Luxor Heights
You plucked his strings like that guy from NovaChrist, who's electro-harp accompanied their Melodic Doom-metal like an angel surveying a battlefield.

You motion for him to move and he does so, Edging up against the door and lining up as flat as he could. His eyes widen as you Goldilocks yourself onto the beat-up couch. Mike inhales, feels the sting of his ribs, and holds his breath…

The door swings open, And Krank continues his conversation "—Didja see his stats though? six concussions given at the combine. That has like, never happened before. Choom is gonna be Elite."

Peter the Eater responded... "Heheheheh Yeah, Yeah, Krank, He's gonna be so good!"

Krank continued, as if he was talking to himself... "But, His lateral movement is a big 'if', you know? Does he have the footspeed to throw down those meaty blocks when the game is on the line?"

"Oh, hehehehe, Yeah yeah, absolutely, you're right, Krank, does he even have the stuff when it's time to pl— hey, who's that?"

Krank followed the pointed finger of Peter the Eater, and looked to MILLIE sprawled out on the couch. "Pete, did you order me a Mox for my birthday?"

Peter, looking between MILLIE and the larger Krank, nods profusely "Heheheheh Of course, of course of course. Happy Birthday, Krank!"

If you could possibly see behind them, you would see the glint of metal as Mike has slipped on one set of knuckle dusters, and was quietly going through his pants to get the other....

https://64.media.tumblr.com/74bf58820d1e490a34e3592f1ca9e205/b6e3301bbdc13efc-67/s640x960/d4ebcdb6f53f62404c090117d353951a747077d9.jpg

enjoying the night

lp

why don't we just leave you here for a few hours to
think about why you didn't swallow for my guest.

https://64.media.tumblr.com/a564bc3b5771bc2a465a9aa8ec332a11/tumblr_mhu72xgDxA1s14xiro1_1280.jpg

Luxor Heights
"You mean Emily's Emillions," she corrected.

"Doesn't matter, might as well target any Corpo with a nice ride, for all that it matters. If you think we got the means — I'm down to clown."

She'd be lying to herself if she denied that there was something gratifying about the emotional whiplash she put you through, to watch reactions sway wildly back and forth between excitement and disappointment, anticipation and apprehension.

It's a wonder you keep letting her do it — at this point you're just participating.

…look, it's Dogtown. Squatter's rights kicks in within minutes.

Wordlessly, she gestured to the spot behind where the door would open and hurried to take up a position visible from the entrance, grabbing up one of the bottles and setting it down next to a beat-up couch, laying herself down to make as though she passed out after finding the beer that was juuuuust right.

Moments later, some ganger in a spiked mohawk and his side-shade choom came through the door conversing about the latest Bloodball game, apparently the draft was a few days ago and the results were shocking or whatever.

Only for the both of them to stop mid-conversation and freeze, dumbstruck.

So delicate i cry for more

what apologizing to the boss looks like.

https://thumb-p0.xhcdn.com/a/AXBERw5W3FG771VPOGXDbA/000/090/992/840_1000.gif

just a drawing, but I love the idea that the punishment
is a night as the faceless, helpless, impaled oral toy.

https://64.media.tumblr.com/a68ca0247a8bb5cb1d9e6ec7a56208dd/tumblr_oztflcjxJW1t7chzno1_540.png

https://dora-games.info/wp-content/bdsm/naked-public-punish-whipping-bondage-fap-naked-strip-punished-amateur-bdsm-gifs-club-whipped-discipline-leash-collared-spanking-animated-submissive-564315.jpg

she said "no"

https://spankgifs.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/punished-hard-2.gif

seeing you there
makes Me hard

Anyone -- thank you and I hope you rest well when you get to sleep!

looking in

Luxor Heights
Well, when you put it like that…

"Okay... Okay.."

And then you approach, and he winces a little as the bruise gets more attention when it was just trying to languish underneath a layer of skin or two in peace. Your words have him dropping his jaw a bit, before snapping it shut and unable to help the wry grin his mouth twists in.

"Alright, alright, I was just sayin'... You got a Family Fortune that could be just MILLIE's Millions with a Netrunner helping us out?"

His eyebrows wiggle as you take his hand and gently lift it to… Place it on his own chest, with the cold compress against his chest. He looks down at it, and then back up at you.

"Yeah, I can be your camera man! That's no sweat, Choomie. Where should we—"

The sound of approaching footsteps has him looking around. This place DID look too lived-in to be derelict... His eyes snap to the door, and then back to you.

"If this turns out to be another of your sisters' spots I'm jumping out the window."

I’m good you’re happy and safe. Good work. Have a good night. It’s at 12:30 after midnight here in Ontario Newmarket .

Luxor Heights
"Nah yeah you're right, I'm just struggling off synth-protein and selling my body for fun, while sitting on a big ol' stack of Eddies with my name on it!"

Freezer opened, cold towel withdrawn.
MILLIE approached you, folding the towel over a few times and gently pressing that chill compress over your throat.

"But what of it? What if I had some vault of secret money? You presume some share of it jus'cause you got sum magic dick, fuckboy?"

It was hard to tell if hers was a grin or a sneer, one that lingered silent as you vocally writhed about Saddie the Baddie.

"I didn't mean it literally, I just mean whatever brainrot is in store for those of us who stick around to be her loyal lapdog. Sisters like Vikkie. Like I said, there's more to that bullshit."

After a moment, she withdrew the towel and unfolded it, re-folding with a new cold side out before she opened your coat and rested it against the red spot on your chest.

Eyes wandering, aflicker, before she took your hand and rested it over hers, and… let you hold the towel for yourself.

"I don't know. I don't trust any of them. Might just remote in and let her say her peace. You wanna do me a favor? Telepresence me on an emitter so I can technically do what I'm asked without potentially being made to stick around and do god knows what?"

Right as she started to approach again, however, there were noises from the distant stairwell that echoed up and down the hall. Perhaps whoever lived here, returning.