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“Bastard— we’re going to be late to the meeting!”
“Well, whose bright idea was it to take time in the shower?”
“You think I want to go to a meeting with Wellington, smelling like Fallen Angel guts and slobber?!”
“Honestly it would be an improvement.”
The bickering grows fainter as they descend the stairs, mixing in with the din of the busy tavern and Gingerbread almost— almost yells out in relief. She slumps over in one of the common room benches and lets out a breath.
They’re her idiots, absolutely, but they were idiots. There was only so much she could handle before she considers the thought that she’d die from brain damage exposure to their oddball ways of showing… whatever their relationship was. Even she can’t put a finger on it.
That aside, she’s glad they didn’t spend another whole minute fighting nor insisted she tagged along. It wasn’t like the current mission was so sensitive she needed to be there to assist.
She waits a moment to make sure that neither of them returns for some forgotten article and, once that time passes, she gets up and makes her way to her own room. She locks the door behind her and stomps over to the closet, flinging it open.
A pale man lazes on his side and peers up at her with the most venomous glare she’s ever received. Not that it does anything but annoy her. She matches his glare with a scowl of her own. “You know Mary, I let you off easy before when I found you snooping around being a creep,” She says, crossing her arms. “But really? When those two were right here?”
“Oh please, as if that ever stopped me, sweetheart.” Bloody Mary rolls his eyes, pushing past her and out of the closet she’d thrown him in a while ago. As he passes by, she grabs at a familiar reddish coat loosely hung over his frame and he immediately grabs back at it.
They glare at each other a moment longer, hands gripping at the coat in a silent tug of war before Gingerbread grumbles and lets the man take it with a triumphant smirk. The tall man takes a seat on her bed, crosses his leg over the other and looks every bit a smug aristocrat.
Gingerbread points at the coat, says, “That’s not leaving this room. You got that?”
Blood Mary waves a dismissive hand, “Steak has several of these. He won’t miss one.” He replies easily.
“Sure. But Red Wine’s the one taking stock. You know he’s the one funding all the extra clothes Steak has, right?”
“Wooow~” Blood Mary says dramatically with a flourish, “My precious Steak has a sugar daddy that has a swearing kink. I never would have guessed!” He laces his words with so much sarcasm that Gingerbread momentarily let it slide that he was insulting the half of the duo she prefers.
“Skipping the stupid question, you think I won’t report you to the Church outpost? Or I don’t know… beat you up?”
Bloody Mary looks at her with a mocking sneer and an amused twinkle in his eyes. “My dear, we both know I’m fair company when you’re bored. And you are bored, maybe at your wit’s end with the stale entertainment of watching those two fight like a broken record.” He laughs. “How you even manage to endure that is beyond me.”
“Besides I haven’t been near Steak for… two? Three months and I so very miss seeing him grace my eyes. You robbed me of that opportunity but well, I can compromise.” As emphasis, he pulls the coat closer around him, basking in whatever delusional warmth she thinks it offers him. Gingerbread sighs loudly. Bloody Mary is perceptive, that she’d give. She should have beaten him when they first encountered each other, but she didn’t… as he’d claimed.
Looking back, she probably should have beaten him to set firmer boundaries. Now she’s dragged a monster to hide in her bedroom when she’d caught him snooping in Steak’s room, a monster pining after someone he’ll never be able to reach… or maybe that point never bothered him. It was only ever about the chase and the drops to quench his endless thirst. In hindsight, she’s come to somewhat regret indulging her past self’s rebellious streak at that moment.
She watches Bloody Mary stand and walk over to her vanity, opening various drawers. “Hey, what are you doing?”
“Bah! You wouldn’t let me out of this room and while it would be amusing to try and fight you, I’m not in the mood to get bruises. And wouldn’t that be something to explain to them about the possible state of your room? You’re in a hard place, my dear.”
“That doesn’t answer what you’re doing going through my stuff.”
“I’m looking for something. Knowing that fanged little nuisance, he’d have given you something I need.”
She raises a brow at him. “Have I ever said I pity you?” She asks.
Bloody Mary only smiles at her, accompanied by the sultry half-lidded gaze she figures is second nature. “You’re not the first to tell me that. But, I am what I am.” He answers, then turns his attention back to the contents of the bottom most drawer, eyes alighting with glee as he pulls out the manicure set Red Wine gifted to her that she loathed.
“Well I’ve never used that so be my guest—"
“No, my nails are impeccable.” Bloody Mary interrupts and makes a show of his nails. Sharp, perfectly manicured, painted the color of fresh blood or it could be real blood, whoever knows with him. “Your nails are horrible to look at. When even was the last time you trimmed them?”
Gingerbread restrains herself from recoiling at him showing her colors that he thinks would match her well. She crosses her arms at him and refuses to move from her spot. When it was clear that she wouldn’t acquiesce, the smile he shoots her becomes borderline sinister.
“Listen, darling,” He says as he pats the spot next to him. “You can either endure a little manicure… Or I’ll reconsider escaping with this lovely warm coat and you having to explain what’s likely to happen.”
Gingerbread didn’t need to think twice about that, nor shooting him two middle fingers before reluctantly submitting to her momentary fate. At least his gossip was good, now she just needs to make sure he doesn’t slip off into a tangent on Steak.