(Untitled)

[oldromansaint]

[OOM: For the birthday girl]

Santino moved into the bar, leaving behind a lovely black automobile. Jacket- black leather, new and fresh. Pants? Curdoroy, black. Shoes? Polished, black.

A lump of somekind in his pocket.

He sat down, awaiting company. He was hoping for one person, but would never shun more.

[OOC: Mun has to run for an hour and

Comments

[misterparker]

"You look good," Parker says, and sits down next to Salvatore.

[oldromansaint]

"Thank you." Santino replied, flashing Parker a grin. "So do you."

[misterparker]

Parker sketches a half bow and says, "Thanks. I try."

[oldromansaint]

"I don't." Santino replied, mock-loftily, shifting into a model-esque pose.

[stygian_promise]

Never, dear?

Dark (black) eyes watch him - graceful, fine - quiet and thoughtful from behind a cup of hot, bitter (black) coffee.

Oh, and what a pretty picture he makes.

[oldromansaint]

And he's staring back, all too easily. But he isn't staring at her flesh, is he?

Oh, god, she's beautiful like nothing else and there's Desirepainlovehate in his eyes.

Styx. He didn't need to ask her name, it was obvious.

[stygian_promise]

Well that takes an awful lot of the fun out of the game, now doesn't it?

She blinks slowly, with an air of false innocence perfected over the longest of years.

Though, she must admit, he is quite the lovely toy - foolish and beautiful and proud - such fine taste her little nymph has.

[oldromansaint]

Santino remained neautral, almost dark in expression.

Don't play coy. He chided, as something twisted within And she's beautiful, isn't she? Not forms, not skin not eyes nor bones nor anything in between. But- she- is beautiful. Darkly beautiful, like the last words of a drained corspe and Santino failed at his attempt to look away.