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Not Csl

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  1. "i'm quite sure, miss," envy rattled out, polite smile plastered to his mouth like a persistent coat of two thousand year old paint. why the fuck would i not be sure? it would be a waste of time any other way. "and please, don't admire the coat rack; he's good for nothing but." he didn't even have to look over his shoulder to check if the man was smirking at him, damned audible smugness. he would have words, oh yes, he would. "sol, luna," he continued on, nodding in each sister's direction as the names rolled off his tongue. it wasn't customary to learn the names of the mediums, lest they run into trouble further on--sentiment and what-not, not that envy was particularly fond about such things--but hey, they did offer first. "i'm diarmaid. parents thought they were being funny about it, but i suppose you ladies would understand." what a load of hypocritical bullshit! pryde wasn't going to let him live this down. "call me dia. i don't prefer it, but it's what everyone calls me." envy wasted no time. as he spoke, he took out a sketchpad and a silver pen, settling down on an empty chair close by without any prompting. his thumb flicked the pen's point out, and its ornate ridges shone in the early morning sunlight. "shall we, miss? feel free to do whatever you'd like in the meantime. just--little movements, please."
  2. envy wasn't sure whether to laugh or to cringe. in the end, he opted for escape. "shit, you're embarrassing me," he whispered behind him, leaving pryde to the dilemma of figuring out a way to fit himself through the cafe door without losing his dignity all on his own. taking a few steps further into the shop, he considered the scenery: cosy drapes, shadowed corners, intimate morn-light. (an unusual lack of pillows amongst the fray of cushioned landscape, but he was never one for comfort.) fucking perfect-o. "a far cry from the basement you so thoughtfully furnished with that shitty yellow painting," he couldn’t help but quip at pryde, because he was definitely a vengeful little shit. "hey now, you'll hurt my feelings." the taller man placed a hand on envy’s shoulder. “and here i was thinking i’d done my best for you.” "aww, big baby," he cooed teasingly, a desperate attempt to hide the embarrassment churning in his gut, threatening to stain his cheeks red. really, him? a blushing virgin, emotions on steroids? perish the fucking thought. "you were hurting my artistic identity with Big Yellow Circle, so we'll just have to call it even." pryde smirked, no response as he turned towards the counter. "you know what i like," envy called out, watching the man leave his side for the moment before turning his eye to the room. there was a group of young people in the cafe, aside from the two of them (hello 67 percent!). envy considered them for a moment, then began to move his legs in their direction. "hello, pretty ladies," envy shifted his look after a second, "and man. would any of you mind terribly if i use one you as a model for a sketch?” he looked over to the twin with the melting drink. “you, perhaps?” "yeah, that's subtle," pryde snorted from the table he occupied, long legs tucked away under the shadows of the wooden cubicle. envy didn't flinch, continuing to hold the woman’s gaze. "ignore my coat rack; he's awfully mouthy. now, what say you?” he paused. “please?” what an afterthought.
  3. "the plan," said envy, "is to get fucking wasted." "no, it is not," said pryde, a dark look shimmering in his silver eyes. silver linings and clouds, envy thought, all too whimsical. dangerously sentimental, more like. "you're a menace." well, now envy couldn't keep the shark-toothy grin from his mouth if he tried. pryde flicked the cigarette in his mouth to the cement, tattooed bicep peeking out from under his denim jacket with the motion. it was distracting. envy was half-tempted to tell him off, but then that would put to light emotions he wasn't ready to let known, so fuck it, his mouth was staying shut. "when you asked to people-watch, this wasn't what i expected," the unnaturally taller man murmured, stepping over the ashes on the pavement as he stepped closer to envy, looming over the horizon of his shoulders. if he hadn't already known the man to be his preassigned guardian or minder or some-other (who even calls them guardians nowadays), envy would've been scared shitless over his proximity, supernatural power wielder or not. "logovore cafe? the hell does that mean?" "λόγος." his skin tingled as he said the word, but envy paid it no mind. "and really now--coffee shops statistically contain customers 67 percent more inclined to unfamiliar intrusion," he rattled on, crossing the street in the direction of the door, pryde right at his heels. "is that true?" envy smirked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he threw the weight of his shoulder against the door, nudging it open. "nah, i made it up."
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