(Untitled)

[true_desire]

Desire's in the bar, in the usual corner booth, quietly smoking one of hisherits cigarettes.
Are you sure Desire wasn't there all along?

[OOC: Desire-mun has left the building... But slowtime is welcome!]

Comments

[favoriteflavors]

Holy white straight male American Christian God! This bar just gets better and better, doesn't it?

Farley, who can't seem to find a door out of here, has been living both in Milliways and denial.

And Desire isn't helping cure the denial part, as Farley sees...

Well, his girl next door.

On the outside, he's very calm, though he has taken his cigar out of his mouth, but on the inside he's flailing and dancing around, clearly in need of a little shock treatment.

"Hello."

There isn't enough room in Denton or the end of the universe to fit all the subtext Mister Flavors has crammed into that one word.

[true_desire]

The Girl Next Door blinks quietly at Farley, and sets down the smouldering cigarette in a nearby ashtray with a feline grin: Anyone in the know about this particular patron of the bar would certainly know this lady's smile spells trouble, but that's entirely for Farley to guess or find out.

"Hello."

[favoriteflavors]

If only Trouble began with an F, as it would make the perfect middle name for Farley Flavors.

"Buy you a drink, beautiful?"

Wait until he pulls out the completely false bombshell that he owns this bar.

Now that'll impress her.

[true_desire]

The response to the invitation is a dazzling grin: Oh, he's promising to be fun.

"Thank you. And please -- surprise me."

[favoriteflavors]

Oh, now he's had his fantasies, but this is even better.

His saunter to the bar is a little I-own-this-place jerky, but he doesn't have to be smooth.

He's Farley God-damned Flavors.

He invented smooth. Smooth is how he defines it.

When he reaches the bar, he whispers, "Finest you can get for the lady and me."

He returns, cigar in his mouth, with a bottle of Dom Perignon in one hand and two champagne flutes in the other.

[true_desire]

Her eyebrows arch in clear approval, though it seems perhaps a little more appraising than strictly surprised -- Work a little harder, Farley. This one doesn't seem to impress easily, but surely you're close?

She waits politely for him to uncork the bottle, fingertips playing along the rim of her flute. "Excellent choice -- Care to tell me what we'll be drinking to with it?"

[favoriteflavors]

He fills her flute and then his own, looking more thoughtful than he actually is in the moment.

"How about we drink to you being chosen?"

He's on pins and needles, dying to explain further but waiting to be asked first.

[true_desire]

Well, he certainly wants to be asked...
She tilts her head, expression openly curious, and speaks almost as if she were reading from his own personal script.

"Chosen? Chosen for what?"

There's a mischevious glitter in her eyes.

[favoriteflavors]

He actually puts all the champagne down and gets on one knee for this proposal.

"Miss Janet Weiss-"

Because he absolutely refuses to call her Janet Majors.

"-will you be my Miss Mental Health?"

[true_desire]

She's taking longer than expected to answer, sipping her Dom Perignon as if she hadn't heard the question. "Hm. Not its best year..."

"I'm sorry, Farley. Could you repeat the question?"

[favoriteflavors]

His smile dims a little, but it's still there.

She knows her champagne.

No way in hell his brother's responsible for such taste.

And he's also quite pleased that she called him Farley.

Not Mister Flavors, but Farley.

"Will you be my Miss Mental Health?"

[true_desire]

Oh, no: It's quite true that Brad's had nothing to do with her knowledge of champagne. That sort of thing only comes with ... Experience.

"Tch," comes the answer, a quiet click of tongue against soft palate. "I'm afraid I can't, Mister Flavors. You see... I'm already taken."
Apologetic smile on her face, she stands and gives him an altogether too passionate kiss for someone refusing a proposal.

Breaking slightly, she whispers against his lips, "Thanks for the champagne, Farley."

[favoriteflavors]

He quickly holds onto her and doesn't let go.

Oh you beautiful tease.

"Surely there must be some way I can persuade you. Just think of it. Anything you could ever want, beyond what mere Denton has to offer."

He stands with her, holding her back to him, and waves his cigar hand in front of her in a grand gesture.

"Can't you see it now? Can't you hear them? They're saying, 'Janet, sensation of the planet.' The world will love you, and I can make it happen."

[true_desire]

Caught up against his chest, she seems to be surrendering to capture: Reaching up with one hand, her fingers trail along Farley's jaw (and they're so warm!) as she watches the trails of smoke his gestures leave behind. Desire may well be listening to him, falling for the charm: After all, there's always more to want in the world, it's true.

"... But what will Brad say?"

[favoriteflavors]

Farley Flavors is about to do something he's never done before. Not once since he's taken up smoking, not once since he became a success in Denton.

Farley Flavors has dropped his cigar in favor of holding Janet's fingers against his lips.

"It doesn't matter."

Brad never did matter, or that's what it feels like now.

With Janet so close to him.

At this rate, he might not even have to go through with the Dentonvale plan.

[true_desire]

The fingers against Farley's lips burn like a fever: The glint in her eyes reads of hunger, and it surely tastes like victory, seeing that in her eyes.

She breathes the words, lightly biting her lower lip. "Oh, Farley..."

And then she pulls away, slipping free of his grasp. "Ask me again?"