nookiepowered | 23 Sphinx Street, Sunday Night

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23 Sphinx Street, Sunday Night

Who knew you could not only buy an obscenely large stone bathtub at the market across the causeway, but also hire three strapping half-naked possibly-Greek boys to carry it home for you, all for the low, low price of three Toonies, two quarters and a Ferelden silver coin, while not speaking a word of the language?

Yes, okay, fine. Bo knew. Yes, okay, fine, sometimes Bo cheated. Still, as pleasant as borrowing other people's might be, after weeks in this place, Bo finally had her own bathtub, the merchant had some interesting foreign coins, and even the delivery guys didn't exactly leave the premises unhappy. All's well that ends well, right?

Now all she had to do was figure out how to fill the thing, considering that even with the water and electricity finally turned on (thank you, unexpected second job, thank you), the hardware store didn't exactly have a plumbing hookup for an ancient Minoan bathtub.

Maybe she could hire the Greek himbos to come back and fill it with pots of hot water from the sink?

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[Expecting some undead, non-Greek ~~himbos~~ gentlemen callers. That Mitchell and Eric were here is fine for broadcast; topics of conversation, probably not. Alllso getting NWS-y after the comment-collapse.]

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"Yeah, well, Lucy certainly mastered it, too," Mitchell said, scowling at the wall. "All that time--"

"Who's Lucy when she's not trying to lightly blow you up?" Directed slightly more towards Eric than Mitchell only because that's who she thought was more likely to answer rather than burn a hole in the wall with his eyes.

"Girlfriend," Eric said. "Betting that's off now."

He was the soul of tact.

"Oh, thanks, Eric, that was really thoughtful of you," Mitchell muttered.

Ten thousand possible responses, and to Bo's credit, she chewed and swallowed the one about his taste in women blowing, but couldn't stop, "Oh, honey," from sneaking out in its place.

Between sucker for a sadfaced boy and inappropriate explosion puns, she supposed she'd go with suckerhood, but...

Eric's eyebrows arched up and he was suddenly reminded of Sookie and her careless use of endearments.

Not that he'd had a great many of them directed his way lately.

Yeah. Mitchell still kind of desperately wanted to go kill something, but the blow to the head had cooled him down. A bit.

"I stuck my neck out for humanity for a long time," he said. "Fuck 'em."

Well, there was one way to cut through the sap. "One woman isn't humanity, Mitchell. What she did was awful, but killing everybody ever? Extreme overreaction to getting dumped."

Said the woman who'd never in her life been dumped, yes, unless you considered waking up next to a corpse to be a really extreme way of doing it.

Eric decided to just sit down on the bed and make himself more comfortable. "Not to mention extremely messy and generally unlikely to work. There are easier ways to blow off steam."

"I wasn't just dumped, she used me," Mitchell said. "A little death is no less than what they deserve--"

Eric's words permeated his skull at around that point.

And only then did it occur to him that he was sitting on a big bed that looked a lot like it belonged in a whorehouse.

Bo: not always slow on the uptake, nor did she need to squint at Eric anymore. "I've heard some people try this thing called a rebound screw before they move on to eradicating their ex's entire species."

"Me too," Eric said, nodding like Bo had just come up with an Amazing Solution.

Of course, he'd taken revenge sex to the absolute limit with Talbot, but hopefully, Mitchell wasn't the type to kill either of them and carry them around in candy jars.

Mitchell: not actually looking as shocked as he could have been, considering. Blame having a hundred years or so on him by now. (Besides, he was more the 'tear out a bunch of juglars and be done with it' type. Ew, candy jars.)

But there was something he had to say here.

"Aren't you a couple of fucking romantics."

As was he, for not immediately thinking it was a stupid fucking idea. (And hey, in a couple of months, he might recognise it was sure as hell less of a stupid fucking idea than his original 'let's break into the metro and kill people' plan.)

"What, you want flowers and candles? I'm a succubus." Those books she'd shoved aside? Fandom High library. Not that they told her anything for sure, but the word was close enough to fit.

Also, she, um. Liked flowers and had candles. She just didn't really trust Mitchell around fire right now.

"See? Succubus," Eric said, nodding. "Besides, it's dark. I don't think to florist is open."

When it was, Bo would be getting flowers. It was how Eric operated.

Yeah, well.

Mitchell had thought Bo was hot-but-terribly-off-limits before, which meant that sleeping with her would be like spiting Lucy, right? Right.

"Well, hell," he said, "Lucy always hated me hanging around with the supernaturals."

"Such a way with words. You could turn a girl's head." There's a point where he gets sane, right? she thought useless at Eric. Though the gist might have been telegraphed with her eyes, while her fingers were telegraphing something entirely different by sliding slowly down her own throat.

What? If you notice an interest, use it.

"Just a thought," Eric said, "but it's generally frowned upon to bring the ex up in someone else's bed."

Which he'd be getting out of. Any minute now.

Mitchell could have commented that they'd just jointly decided the situation really wasn't exactly romantic, but Bo really was being very distracting. "Point," he said, sliding over to the edge of the bed, flicking his eyes to Bo's neck and then-- down.

Oh, look. He'd noticed the proper cleavage after all.

"About fucking time." There, how was that for romantic? Though maybe the part where she rested one knee on the bed and leaned over to provide a closer introduction to the subject at hand made up for that.

Well, now Eric was looking (what? They were right there!), and that was slowing down his "leaving any minute" plan.

Bo's cleavage was even more impressive up close, or maybe that was just loads of left-over adrenaline talking. Whatever-- Mitchell was craving something to occupy his mind that he could lose this overpowering rage in, even if it was just a moment.

He reached out and covered one hip with his hand. His eyes tracked back up over her collarbone, then her neck, to settle finally on her lips.

It seemed a shame to just leave that to looking. When he leaned in further to kiss her, he wasn't exactly shy about it.

Which was more like it. Much more like it. Close enough to it to be mistaken for its twin on an overcast night in a dark alley.

Bo wrapped a hand around his shoulder to steady herself, and let the other rest on Mitchell's jaw, not drawing energy from him, just feeling it play through his skin.

"I'll be going, then," Eric said, placing his hand on Bo's back.

That about broke through Mitchell's intense concentration on what he was doing now, and he broke away from Bo. A little.

To blink fuzzily in Eric's general direction.

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