Cherubplay

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Slick hadn't meant to keep the other's erect member on hold for long, but he had been quite hesitant to touch him in that certain place (as if doing just that was more intimate then the current thorough fucking he was giving him). But, once he'd finally cone to terms with himself, and by that, more so being consumed and intoxicated by lust, he threw out such tentativities and decided to go back to his usual characteristic; acting before thinking. Of course, he had enough common sense to know what was and what wasn't acceptable, and didn't plan on causing any perminate damaged (not that that was possible anyway). However, such lust for affection and subtle lust for blood was only spiked by the higher pitched cry of his own name at the love bite. It racked something dangerous in the man, and soon Spades Slick felt that Doc Scratch shouldn't have let out such a sound.

It only motivated Slick to open his mouth wider, slipping out of the wound he'd made, and giving the already healing wound a few laps of an apologetic tongue before the hand that had been caressing under the opposing man's jaw shifted. It curled into those perfectly platinum locks, rendering whatever hair product the Felt leader used for it to basic uselessness as claws curled through it messily, then slid to the back if he'd head where it rested against the mattress, and entangled deeply into the locks before tugging his head back, exposing his neck more. If that on wary hadn't gotten to him, them the increasing pants and breathless moans would have. It was some sort of twisted symphony really, and had Slick burying himself deep into Doc and jerking back when the other had surprisingly pressed back against him. It was an automatic cue that the other was certainly enjoying himself, and motivated the taller enough to give the length in his hand a practiced twist of his wrist and a graze of the pad of his thumb at his slit.

Earlier, he hadn't wanted to overwhelm Scratch with the differing pleasure and pains all at once. He had originally planned to walk him through it and add one pleasure at a time, maybe mix things up a bit, but apparently his desires were much more controlling then he first interpreted. And Scratch's reactions stirred up his inner fantasies with shocking ease. So, as Slick was slowly but surely reaching that point of where he would tip over the edge of pleasure, he paused the stroking of Doc's erection and placed it at his calf, picking the leg up and curling it around his own waist. It was a silent cue to let the other know he had the say in whether he wanted Slick to finish them up now, or slow it down. It wasn't a moment later his hand was back around his length, green blood dripping down his chin as his fangs nipped and sunk slightly into formerly flawless skin to render it with markings.

2014-09-08 02:31:39
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Scratch was divided- part of him was utterly thrilled Slick had released the reservations he'd held on to at the beginning of this encounter, and the other part was blatantly shocked at the first for actually enjoying it. But there was no doubt in anybody's mind he did, once his various reactions were all noted and taken into consideration. Furthermore, the latter half of himself was even more blown away he was letting himself react as he did. It was nothing short of salacious, and he... He /did/ enjoy that feeling, that someone had made him feel desirable at long last, and not some object of cold and clinical business. If anything, it only made him cling tighter to Slick, his fingernails pulling up skin as the taller man continued to pound into him. While he enjoyed the taste of the other Nan's name on his tongue, he felt that Slick was enjoying that of Scratch's blood, and the First Guardian would not be one to judge, especially as his tongue roved over the slowly-sealing incisions.

Doc Scratch added to the call-and-response of their various groans and growls with another quavering gasp as his hair was yanked back; his hips seemed to work in conjunction with this motion, as they bucked forward against Slick's hand as his elegant white throat was put on further display. The ratio of pain to pleasure was well distributed, Scratch had to give him that- neither one overpowered the other, and he figured it was not often Slick got to treat his partners this way without them lodging several complaints. Scratch would not, seeing as he had no reason to. If anything, Slick did- all his handiwork would be gone in not too long.

Slick's simple twist of his wrist makes Scratch gasp and shudder, panting harshly in a way he was not familiar with, the sound rough with the same sort of need Slick was experiencing. In a way he was tuned in to the other- he could see every thought in his head, after all. But the man was in control enough of his faculties to let Scratch know he held the decision in regards to how soon they finished. In the very back of his mind, Scratch knew he couldn't stay forever, and delaying his departure was of no real use. So when his leg was wrapped around Slick's waist, he again displayed some odd sense of strength for his small stature, pressing Slick inside him once more.

2014-09-08 03:38:03
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The insistent clawing at his back gave the sure promise of angry, red abrasions to be left in Scratch's wake, and not an ounce of the mobster disliked such a fact as the movement stung and intensified with each clawing. When considering Slick's slight distaste towards blood, he seemed to be quite enthrawled in it now as the peculiar color of Doc's tainted his tongue and left a lingering iron taste in his mouth. Not to mention the respectable trickle of such a substance dripping from his fangs as if he'd practically mauled Scratch's neck, but as it was slowly healing and bleeding much less then it had formerly, the green smears on his face could be mistaken for melted ice cream... If it weren't for it's thick and iron scented composition.

When the other gave a shaky gasp when his hair was yanked back, Slick tightened his grip on him only slightly, purring and looking over the mess he'd created as that pale and almost feminine curved leg push him forward with surprising force. Slick didn't pay the force itself much mind, instead focusing on the fact he was sinking once more into the other, and took that as his cue to go ahead and finish up. A part of him didn't necessarily want to be done quite yet, however that part of himself was cast aside almost entirely as he realized how close he was to the edge already, and knew he wouldn't be able to hold out much longer anyway. The hand wrapped around Scratch's length was a lot slippier compared to when they first started, and Slick was almost a bit prideful in the fact he was able to accomplish in getting the uptight and smug bastard to let himself let go of keeping up such characteristics.

Slick must admit, he did make some pretty surprising noises, regardless of the fact Scratch already had a silver-like tone, his wanton moans were incomparable. As the taller came to climaxing, he sucked in a sharp amount of air through clenched fangs, letting go off Doc's hair so he may do as he wished with his head, and instead curled that same arm around his waist, arching his back at an almost sharp angle as he pressed himself up against the other's cluster of nerves and gave a subtle chocked noise as his hips stuttered before releasing his seed. It only occurred to him too late that he should have asked whether or not to cum in the pale man, his hand still moving along the other's length to help him climax as well, even as white stars clouded his vision and rendered his sight useless.

2014-09-08 12:40:13
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Though the paler man, for a moment, figured Slick resembled something akin to a vampire due to the smears of jade blood around his mouth, he experienced nothing close to fear or repulsion. Of course, the other man was being a bit messy, but that was to be expected in such a heated state. Scratch knew his inhibitions had been released, to some extent; not so much as Slick's had been, but to a certain degree they were. No doubt after this had passed, Scratch would regress further and become, well, rather shy and even embarrassed. That as well as a deal more spent than he'd normally be. He had quite a lot of stamina, and it would quickly restore afterward; similarly, any soreness one would have usually experienced in the wake of such activities would be much more minor, and fade swiftly.

But for the time being, Scratch was still caught up in the thorough reaming he was receiving courtesy of Spades Slick, his mind still working through a thick, hot haze of arousal. He didn't think much of his hair being pulled in the least, surprisingly- at least not negatively. He enjoyed the rough treatment and its stark contrast to his regular sense of collectivity and distance. Perhaps what he needed was someone who would drag him back, down to their level. Slick was undoubtedly doing an exemplary job at it, as evidenced by Scratch's varying moans and cries, ranging from merely a formless noise to some affected utterance of the other man's name at some points. Slick had reacted rather splendidly to that occurring, at least in Scratch's observations.

When the taller man let out a lower sort of groan, releasing inside Doc Scratch, the latter responded with nails dug tight into Slick's skin and a sharp mewl at new sensation. He remained still, too, his body drawn tight as a bowstring ready to release and, for the most part, pressed flush against Slick, until he came with a forte-piano sort of cry- initially loud, then dropping to a soft whimper. He panted softly afterward, opening his eyes with what seemed to be legitimate effort. Slowly, he unwound his hand from around Slick's back and was greeted with the none-too-surprising-yet-still-new sight of sticky red blood under his short fingernails and on the tips of his fingers. It was then he realized, with a brief glance downward, he'd made a small mess of Slick's hand, and he felt absolutely mortified.

2014-09-08 19:21:56
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The first thing that hit Slick was the afterglow, his heated desires and actions of being caught up in the moment practically leaving almost as soon as they had appeared in the first place. The next thing that hit him was the utter exhaustion. He may not have as well a stamina as Scratch, however his was quite respectable considering his constant activities in such a category of intimacy. But, that didn't mean he wasn't rendered breathless by his actions, and was currently attempting to calm down his racing heart as he noticed Doc glancing down and seemingly embarrassed. That earned a subtle furrowed brow, and with sluggish motions and swimming head, he looks down at the mess in his hand. He doesn't look disgusted, nor smug, more so plainly pleased, and carefully unwraps his hand from around the flaccid member, the sticky substance dripping down his palm as a very soft snort comes from him.

He doesn't speak on it, just looks back up to the paler and smirks tiredly.

"Ya were fuckin'... Perfect." He commented truthfully, the words barely like that of a mumble as if one could hear him giving such a compliment. The sting of cold air brushing against the claw marks on his back were only mild at the moment, but by the look of the crimson substance on Doc Scratch's hand, Spades Slick would most definitely be sore later. He didn't mind however, and shifted his hips a bit to gently slide out of the other and give him a sincere kiss to his cheek. The taller doesn't get up then, or even roll off the end to retrieve his clothing. The hand covered in cum is maneuvered in a way to avoid smearing it in the blankets as he drops to his side, making sure not to just collapse on the shorter man. His breathing was slowly but surely coming back to him, a pleased smile on his lips as a content purr escapes him.

Another time that he had felt as satisfied as this had to have been... Well, never, actually. The feeling of contentment and satisfaction was almost overwhelming, especially since he's gone longer then usual without this sort of attention. Not to mention it was with someone he undoubtedly adored, so that could be another factor that helped the situation feel almost surreal. He knew he should probably clean up, especially since he had to awkwardly hold up his arm considering his position on his side that faced Scratch, but he was too comfortable to do so. It didn't even occur to him that he could be smearing his own and the other's blood onto the blankets, let alone his own cum. All that was really coherently understood was that Doc was utterly perfect and that Spades Slick felt more attached to him then he had before, regardless of the actual point where the two had legitimately been pressed together like fitting puzzle pieces.

2014-09-08 20:05:34
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Doc Scratch treated the other man to the most demure smile after being complimented. His cheeks were still tinged with green, though it now resembled more of an innocent blush than a deep flush brought about by their previous, heavier actions. He felt strangely contented as well, though the only reason it was considered "strange" was because this was the first time he'd ever experienced something akin to an 'afterglow'. He didn't know what to tell the other man in response except thank you, in a tone that really sounded as if he'd been graced by something more extraordinary. It was then he noticed, however, the awkward position Slick had reverted to.

Scratch sat up, looking at the other man and fully believing he'd inconvenienced him, and that it wouldn't do at all.

"Y-You'll have to excuse me." He said, the first wave of embarrassment hitting him powerfully. The second came after he had risen from the bed and begun walking toward the bathroom door; he was more than a bit embarrassed to be fully unclothed now. In fact, he was beyond the word. But at least Slick was treated to an impressive view of his rear before he closed the bathroom door to a crack. Scratch was quick to grab a washcloth and run it under hot water. He'd clean himself off first, the remaining smears of blood on and around his shoulders, and the mess between his legs- an area that proved to be still sensitive. After, he tossed his green robe on and tied it loosely about him. Despite his aversion to being seen bare now, it wasn't the most secure tie, and let a strip of his chest remain in sight.

He wrung out the cloth and then wetted it again before taking it back out to Spades Slick on the bed. He'd look at the other man, as if a bit worried for a moment, before taking his hand himself and lifting it in order to wipe it clean. After that he'd leave it in his hand, so Slick could relieve himself of the slight mess on his lower abdomen and that on his face. Scratch considered it appropriately strange Slick had his blood smeared on his face, and even stranger he considered the notion of being bitten to the point of bleeding himself to be arousing on some level. He would not begrudge Slick his fun, however; if Scratch did have an issue with something he did, he'd be sure to tell him. But for now he only sat down on the edge of his bed, looking to the other man.

2014-09-09 00:57:26
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Slick wasn't bothered at all with the current mess he was in. In fact, he's felt an done worse then this, an found the result of their actions to be quite minor compared to opposing events. At least Slick hadn't broken another headboard, nor clawed a mess into the blankets or pillows and have feathers littered about the room like some overrated teenaged girl sleepover. It had been almost pristine in comparison, an he didn't understand fully as to why Scratch had seemed embarrassed, if his stammer and quick exit was anything to go by. Spades Slick at least watched the other leave, gaze slipping up his lower back to his spine and--what the hell was that? That was peculiar. He doesn't recall seeing any scars on the paler man, then again, he never did get a good look at his back. He was use to scars and the like, yes, but what made him curious was the fact it looked... Perfect, almost purposeful. As if someone had meant for such a marking to be made upon the man's skin. What was truely bizarre was, didn't Doc heal up easily?

He contemplated that for a moment, though his icy hue, now holding a bit of warmth in it now from the aftermath, was slowly closing away from the world and into an abyss of slumber. He hadn't mean to let himself fall asleep, but one moment he's spaced out, the next tree something warm and wet in his hand and his eye is peeking open as Scratch's dainty fingers scrub his genetic material from the mobsters hand. Well, he certainly didn't have to do that, but Spades Slick appreciated it anyway as he slowly sat up. A small hiss, barely anything at all really, escapes his fangs as he finally takes note of the tingling sensation at his back. He furrows his brow at that, and reaches aroun himself to touch the offended area before bringing his hand back into his vision. Crimson liquid tainted his fingertips, and instead of freaking out or cursing, like he's been witness to in past experiences, he gives an amused chuckle and uses the rag in his hand to wipe the blood from his fingertips.

"Well. Ya certainly did a fuckin' number." There was violent intentions or sinister mocking in his tone, just amusement and contentment. He sounded oddly relaxed and obviously tired.

Now, he noticed the other is in his robe, and narrows his eye in confusion.

"... Why ya got that on?" He didn't really need an answer, he understood how the other worked... More or less, but assumed it had something to do with his usual characteristics, and let the article of clothing slide before giving a sigh.

"I should prolly out my clothes back on..." He admitted, but a part of him really didn't want to. Getting up sounded like a hassle, even sitting up proved to be. He cleans up the mess on his face then, then his lower abdomen and then lets the rag rest over his houlder as he sits in his usual slouched position, not at all bothered about his exposure.

2014-09-09 01:37:47
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The fact the other man had fallen asleep was... Well, Scratch found it straight up endearing, not to mention a bit revealing. Had he really worn the other man out so much that he would drift off so readily? He hadn't though this encounter would stick out very much in Spades Slick's mind considering what he'd done in the past, and had just hoped it was enough to satiate the violent man. Apparently it was, but when Slick hissed quietly after feeling the scratches on his back, Scratch tensed and withdrew his hand in a jerking motion. He hadn't meant to, but the sound had thrown him off a bit; after Slick acted amused at them, however, he relaxed and felt quite a bit sheepish.

"Ah, I would apologize but..." Scratch started softly, mouth drawing back into a small smirk, the first one in a while. "I think they are merited considering your habits regarding mine own skin." In a way, it was a bit of longer-lasting revenge, though Scratch's was already healed for the most part.

"I-I only..." Scratch's smirk faltered at the question regarding his robe. He almost felt ashamed then, like he'd been expected to stay bare. "... Expectedly, I'm not very used to others seeing me sans clothing, and I... Just felt a bit awkward, I apologize." The porcelain man admitted softly, lacing his fingers together in his lap.

He'd realized Spades had seen the scar down his back, traveling along his spine, yes, but made no move to address it whatsoever. He likely wouldn't ever do that, unless the other man inquired after it, in which case he would try to close the matter as taciturnly as he could without sounding suspicious. It'd be difficult, but it wasn't something he was keen on discussing with anybody at all. He didn't expect Slick to respect that really, simply because of who he was, but not bringing it up himself would have to be a barrier enough for him.

At the mention of Slick getting dressed again, Scratch almost spoke up- against it, of course. He felt positively infantilizing and unrealistic to boot, but he wanted Slick to stay longer, the night itself if possible. He knew that couldn't be- besides, Spades Slick couldn't have been much of a cuddler at all, being who he was and all. Scratch would just have to deal with it, he supposed, and said reluctantly to the other man, "If you'd like."

There certainly was a way Scratch could arrange Slick staying over and not getting into any trouble with his cohorts, but it would require some subtle manipulation on his part, and though he was adverse to even that, he thought that the ends certainly did justify the means in this particular case.

2014-09-09 02:22:55
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That first smirk after their intimate encounter that Slick caught was entirely amusing. The words added to it, only made it better and earned a light scoff from the taller man. He expected as much to come from him, and though he would usually have a snarky comeback, he was much too tired to really put such effort upon doing such a thing. One would think Scratch had worn him out quite a bit, and one would be right. It was mainly because Slick had been holding back so much, that once he finally caved into his desires, it was like opening the floodgates all at once and Spades Slick had just about drowned in his own river. Instead of letting it stream out at a current pace, he instead waited until the last blasted second before letting go and dropping the silent note to himself on keeping the other's wants and nots in mind.

Speaking of which, he now recalls the point of where he hadn't asked permission to ejaculate inside the other or not. Some people were more then obscenely touchy about that, and he slightly felt guilty for having not asked. Though, by the way it hadn't been brought up, and the fact Scratch seemed more so embarrassed upon explaining his robe and his uncomfortable situation, Slick let his worries fly out a nonexistent mental window.

"The fuck ya apologizin' for?" He asked with a sideways smile, a fang protruding from his upper lil in a sly way to express his unmatched characteristic of nonchalance. "Ain't nothin' t'a be damned sorry 'bout, it was a rhetorical question. Ya didn't need t'a answer it 'cause I already had my answer. I understand how ya get." He waved the matter of physically, as if it were an actual object hanging before him much like a nuisance.

With a grunt and small roll of his shoulders to loosen up some tension, he maneuvered about on the bed to slide off and stand up before picking up his boxers and button up. He slid the boxers on, more so that the other didn't feel awkward if Slick decided to get closer to him, and slid on his button up, though left the buttons undone. The shirt served the purpose of stopping any blood from smearing in Doc Scratch's blankets, and the rest of his clothing stayed on the floor as he came back on the bed by sitting on it's edge. He was aware he should be conscious of the time, and also make sure not to pass out before getting back to the hideout, however he... Just wanted to stay a bit longer, he supposed. He didn't particularly know exactly why, but after something as heavy as what the two had just did, and the fact it was the paler's first time? Slick was a bastardized and a conniving idiot, yes, but he wasn't... Completely, heartless. So, he reaches an arm out, allowing it to curl around Scratch's waist, and tugged his smug bastard close before nuzzling against his hairline with a lazy purr.

2014-09-09 02:55:42
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At Spades Slick's comment about "knowing how Scratch got", the referenced man couldn't help but give a brief roll of his eyes, hardly noticeable if not for the fact his pupils were a darker shade of green. Slick could say all he wanted he knew how the paler man got, but Scratch was sure he didn't know the full deal. Not yet, anyway, and nobody could really claim to. Some knew more than most, more even than Slick, but it wasn't up to any form of debate that Slick knew Scratch in more personal, intimate ways, especially considering what had just transpired between the two. It was a naturally bonding experience, and was meant to be that way- there were cases wherein that wasn't reciprocated (thankfully not this one) but on one side or the other, there was always some lasting effect, however minute it might have been.

Doc Scratch watched him placidly as he began to dress slowly, only pulling on his boxers and dress shirt. At least the latter garment was black, and the blood wouldn't show as explicitly as it would on another color, such as white or, well, green. Scratch's blood had an uncanny tendency to stain, and it was good Slick got it off of his face when he did. That and it would've confused any Midnight Crew member that saw it. They wouldn't immediately assume it was blood, perhaps paint instead, but it was still a rather telling sign of being out and about. Scratch was sure somebody would question Slick, and as a result the other would undoubtedly make up some lie or another. Being caught wasn't exactly something Scratch feared, really; everything could be undone in one way or another, and Scratch used that to his benefit when necessary.

When he was tugged closer to the taller man, arm around his waist, Scratch had the grace to at least look a little surprised before his arms wrapped gently around the other man's torso. He was careful not to place a hand directly on the fresh scratches, and rested his head lightly on the other's collarbone. A quiet smile came to him as Scratch nuzzled into his hair, which was still a relative mess due to Slick's behavior. It wasn't a major mess by anyone's standards, but to him it certainly was. Scratch exhaled slowly, letting himself relax a bit more and forcing most thoughts to stay at bay for the time being. Slick's quiet purring had him almost drowsy, as close to it as he could have been, but he knew it wouldn't last. It was a pleasant notion it would, but a quixotic one at best.

2014-09-09 11:31:56
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So maybe Slick didn't know /everything/ about Scratch, but maybe he had at least started to scratch the surface of revealing who this usually composed man was. So far, Spades Slick has seen he gets quite flustered at things the mobster found amusing, or natural really. When first meeting someone like the Felt leader, the first mindset upon him is that it would take an armed squad and maybe a bit more then a militia to even coax the man into contemplating a pleasant smile. But, not only can Slick get the other to smile, but blush as well? He doesn't know what exactly he's doing right with the man, but he's too preoccupied with his reactions to even contemplate stopping it. Maybe that's what drew him in at first; the prideful feeling of getting his (former) enemy to grow flustered that first time he'd returned the kiss at the Felt Manor's door. It was something he didn't think he'd be capable of doing to the pale man, and now that he's gotten a taste (a little too literally), he's hooked like one would be on alcohol. Or, in Slick's case, alcohol and Doc Scratch.

When the other gave a modest surprised look, Slick almost scoffed, but only purred a bit louder as he drew close and even rested his head on his chest. Well... That was certainly new. Then again, he hasn't ever allowed someone to get /this/ close after intercourse. In fact, he usually gives them space, and in return gives himself the space he needs to recover, clean up (or not, it depended if it was his bed they were messing up), and then kik the other out of his room or motel room. If it was a dame, he would at least wait until morning for them to leave, but would tell them to sleep on the bed and he'd rest on the couch. Of course, at that, most women left in a huff, so it wasn't his fault if they got hurt wandering the streets alone. He'd warned them, even gave them an option, but most dames were too stubborn to listen, and Slick would be too consumed in his afterglow to really care.

The other still had his signature scent, and the mobster was almost surprised at that. Almost.

In a moment or so, his purring had quieted down to a barely audible rumble, quite content with his current position and kissed the other's temple before starting to slowly become quite. For a few seconds or so, he was almost perturbingly silent, but eventually a surprising noise came from him. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to realize it was a soft snore, his blue hue closed an lips slightly parted as he leaned against the other man a bit, arm still around his waist whilst the other sat limply at his own side. He hadn't necessarily meant to pass out like that, and would definitely scold himself for doing such a careless act, but... He was so damned comfortable, and with scratch cuddled up against him as such, his guard was lowered and eventually dropped like the f-bomb he soon be cursing.

2014-09-09 12:34:11
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Doc Scratch supposed the reason he found Spades Slick to be, well, less than intimidating, was because of his own disposition. The ones in the Felt who feared Slick, his temper, blades, and uncanny ability with fire, were those who were at a loss to him. Snowman, who knew she was his better, was not as afraid of him as others. The same was true for Matchsticks, who knew well and good he could get nothing accomplished to aid their collective goals if he went around being afraid of things (that and the man was built in the exact opposite of Scratch, he was intimidating enough on his own). Scratch was not at a disadvantage when facing anyone, and thus the threat Slick presented was entirely nullified. Scratch was faced with only the man, and the man (as brutal and heartless as he liked to claim he was, and to a point actually was) was nothing for him to fear. He had his own quirks, some of which would require adjusting to, and though his attitude could stand some work, Scratch found he was tolerable after all. More than that, clearly.

The reason Scratch reacted like he did to Slick's various actions were because they didn't occur to him frequently. Or at all, in truth. He was not used to displays of affection; much more so he was used to aggression, and was better adapted to handling it than he was tokens of kindness. Not a lot of people were fond of Scratch, surprisingly. Well, it wasn't so surprising when you considered the things he did for a living. Even those who knew him only by name had very little good to say; he was commonly conceived as a treacherous, shady man with habits by the same descriptions, and with a cold personage to boot. Not to be trusted, by anybody's account. He could live with that, he supposed. People would talk and talk, but it was Spades Slick who had the gall to kiss him. Steal one, really; Slick had been the first to kiss Scratch, and the first to sleep with him. He was a pioneer the entire romance department, as ironic as that was. But Scratch had found they complimented each other well, and was not at all disgruntled with the turn their relationship had taken.

Scratch had realized when he'd fallen asleep, and simply smiled faintly as a result. The kiss to his temple had been lazy and sweet, and in total honesty the First Guardian had no urge to rouse Slick at all; a bit of rest would do him good, and Scratch certainly didn't want him driving anywhere in such a state. Falling asleep at the wheel would have been a horrible way to go out, Scratch mused. Especially for a man as feared and reviled as Slick, an auto accident would be not only anticlimactic but a trifle embarrassing. So Scratch, very slowly over a span of a few minutes, leaned back, lowering them both against the mattress. After that had been accomplished, he slowly began to pull from the other's grasp, trying dearly not to wake him, with the intent of arranging the other's clothes for him and getting them off the floor.

2014-09-09 17:37:21
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When one fell asleep, they were consumed by peacefulness. The muscles relaxe and an innocent sort of look overcomes their expression as their guard is fully lowered and are typically left quite vulnerable. However, this was the complete opposite of Slick's slumber. He was still, yes, muscles more lax, of course, but instead of the trademark calm and soft expression, it was replaced by subtle worry lines between his brows and a slight frown. Spades Slick was a very arrogant and prideful man, not to mention confident, and often then not will pretend worries and mistakes don't exist; but, sadly, they do. For everything and everyone, there is a risk they must take at least once in their lifetime. Something that boarders rash actions and ignorance. It is also sown thing that they can not undo, unlike Scratch ring able to wipe one's memory, Slick could not. Though, his own memory would be the first to go if he could, but again, that's impossible for his abilities.

There were more then a few times where Slick had fucked up worse then the Newbie on the squad force. Being a leader comes natural to him, in a way though. He isn't particularly grand at explaining himself, his intentions, nor his plans. He isn't patient, and often blames others when he is the one at fault. He knows it's wrong, that's just the natural instinct of beings. At one point in his life, he was a good kid. He liked to smile, play with the other toddlers, cry like one too, but as he grew older and things had started to stop favoring him... He turned sour. Well, that was purring it lightly. He was bitter, rotten to the core, and rude at best. So yes, he's made mistakes, a few he desires to take back, but lives with it. When sleeping though, those worries and past accidents come rushing back at him; even current worries take a toll on him. But, he's Spades Slick, the most fearsome man on the streets, one who scares the things hiding in the dark. He isn't allowed to be worried or self conscious; he was appointed a leader and this, shall be the leader he'd been niched into.

It should come of no surprise that once his guard is lowered and he's at his most vulnerable state that a bit of in settlement is present on his expression. He would refuse any help with conversing about such a topic, and shoot down anyone (maybe a bit too literally) if that got personal with him. So, he doesn't need help, nor does he want it. Some may say he does need it, but he'd merely laugh in their face at such a notion and carry on. So, being fast asleep an not even taking notice of the fact he was laid on the bed now, his worry lines crease a bit deeper when Scratch starts to pull away. Now, being awake, he certainly wouldn't have done this, but currently he was curling his fingers deeper into the fabric of the other's robe, unwilling to let him slip out. He doesn't know what the mass is beside him, but he does know it is comforting. Even in his unconscious state, he's still able to murmur out a single word:

"Don't..."

2014-09-10 00:41:25
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On some points Scratch could not say he identified with Spades Slick. He had never "soured". He'd never rotted from the inside out, or been twisted up like the Midnight Crew's leader had been. Experiences and settings had not shaped his youth, because he had none; he had been created, almost like one would clone something in a laboratory, or mix different chemicals to make a new compound. The result was a poor imitation of a man, pure energy hewn into a rough semblance of mortality. His place as a First Guardian meant he was to be ultimate, under nothing and holding jurisdiction over his own planet- from the very start it had been skewed. First Guardians were not made to take orders or be ruled. He'd been tailored to do as much, under Lord English. When people thought of the relationship they had to have, they were a bit thrown off by Scratch's use of the terms master and servant, but took it like the man was just being verbose. No, he was literal- just as he used the title host as a very sardonic, very grim play on words.

Scratch, like most, feared English. He was beyond the power a First Guardian held, omnipresent through time and space. The concept was next to impossible for mortals to grasp, and a trifle hard even for Scratch. Grasping the notion of eternity was a challenge. The most frightening part had to be the physical link- the scar that seemed to denote his ownership, and the whisper of a voice that would steal in through Scratch's skull when he was alone, always reminding him of his purpose and place. It was hardly even a tangible thing, yet it sent chills through him and reminded him why- why he was not to grow attached to anyone and why he was to orchestrate the deaths of the innocent, especially those he should've been protecting. It went against the fiber all First Guardians had in them, that of protection and sovereignty. He was an outlier in that case. But he did identify with Slick's feeling of never showing a hint of worry or anything suggesting he wasn't calm and cool. Scratch had grown uncannily adept at hiding his emotions over the years, so much so he often felt hopelessly detached.

But that could change, he thought. He'd never let anyone know about his own inner conflicts. It'd be too revealing, and akin to a dam breaking. Not just breaking, no, but disintegrating entirely. Scratch feared losing his calm and the result of it being others further distancing themselves from him. With Slick around, though... He felt like more than a tool for English's progression. He felt relevant in some way, that someone did think of him as more than what met the eye. They were all good things, and... Scratch didn't really want to lose either of them.

He froze when Slick tightened his hold on his hip, then, with little prompting, nestled back into the other's side. His cheek rested on the other man's chest, and he found in this position he didn't draw his knees into his chest. He nuzzled closer to Slick, aiming to reassure him somehow through the contact, before settling down once more.

2014-09-10 03:09:28
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When the mass had returned and even laid close to him, not to mention nuzzle against him gently, he relaxed visibly. His muscles loosened up a bit and his tight chest lowered slightly with a calm exhale through his fangs. The curled fingers in Scratch's robe loosened up too, however it still kept themselves burried in the fabric as if unsure whether the other would leave again or not. The frown on his features went lax, and Spades Slick looked a lot more content, besides the forever subtle crease between his raven brows. That seemed insistent... As was his soft snores. It was nothing to compare to Boxcars monster of a snore, but it was audible enough to wake someone up if they were cat napping. This may be the first time in a long while that he has literally slept with anyone and allowed it. Another time may have been with Deuce, but that was because the guy had some twisted nightmares. More often then not, he'd end up bunking with Droog, but every now and then, he'd take a night to cuddle in a ball in Slick's bed, miraculously avoiding the Crew leader's knives.

In his slumber, he didn't necessarily dream of anything. It was mainly a dark void, and a list counting down the mishaps and screw ups he's committed. Often times, he won't sleep at all. Not just because of the nagging dreams, but because he'll stay up late writing plans and/or playing the piano. It was a good distraction from his thoughts, an he was grand at both, but sometimes he messes up on the keys and smashes them, waking up his neighbor Droog and he comes barging into Spades' room to knock him out and put him to bed. Or leave him on the floor. It depended upon if the taller subordinate was patient that not or not (more then likely, not). But, he seemed to fall asleep almost effortlessly a mont or so ago, and in the last place he would have originally thought he'd find comfort in. Well, maybe not the Manor itself, but in the one being he was comfortable enough to be around and not feel like he'd have his throat slit when his back was turned.

He stayed asleep for awhile that night, though it couldn't have been more then a few hours or so, and during such a nap he seemed to tug Doc Scratch closer an slowly migrate his other arm to wrap around his waist in a lazy manner, forcing himself on his side and tucking the other's head under his chin. It was almost innocent with the way he was utterly quiet (except for his occasional snores) and was much like a child attempting to cuddle against the other man. He doesn't quite understand how affectionate he can really be, and once he starts to wake up, a low, long groan comes from him. The furrow in his brow deepens, and he looks almost irritated, which could very well be the case since he wasn't exactly the most friendly of people when he awoke.

2014-09-10 12:35:24
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Doc Scratch would have longed for the shapeless void Slick experienced while sleeping, as well as the form of legitimate rest it was. He did not exactly dream, no, but that was the only thing it could have been called. While part of his mind was unconscious in respite, the other was still ceaselessly processing information, filing it and reopening it. The unconscious had some effect on the conscious, however; what Scratch saw in his sleep could have been anything. A memory, an event that would transpire from someone else's point of view, a third-party view of something from a long time ago. In and of itself, it wouldn't have been so bad- but he could not regulate himself in that, and the events would always twist in accordance with Scratch's feelings toward them. Memories of his time alone in the Manor left him with a hollow feeling after awakening. Views of confrontations he had not even been present at or had not yet occurred would jolt him awake with the impact of a bullet, gunshot still ringing in his ears. They were frighteningly lucid, but he only watched them unfold.

Scratch's dreams were the majority of the reason he preferred to stay awake and active. He did not want to face some horrid thing wrought out of his own mind and wake to regret it. Now that he was surrounded with other people, who all had schedules, it was harder to resist that trend, however. Scratch did not even require sleep, that was the amusing part. If ever he confronted Slick about something, however, it'd be the other mobster getting enough sleep. If Scratch himself had to be there with him in order to see it happen, well... Unfortunate for him, then, wasn't it? But he'd admit being held was one of the most intimate things he could imagine, more so even than the act of sex.

Scratch was grateful Slick stayed even as long as he had, aware he'd never done as much with his other partners in the past. He should have considered himself lucky, and did. He didn't sleep, however; his glass-green eyes were shut, yes, and he seemed relaxed enough to be asleep, but was not. Scratch had to genuinely try in order to accomplish that, but instead occupied himself with listening to Slick's heartbeat and breath; it was the first time he'd ever laid against someone's chest like this, and found it absolutely mesmerizing. Well. The snoring was something a bit less than that, but Scratch still found it appropriate accompaniment coming from someone like Slick. He didn't snore (he didn't even seem the sort) while sleeping, but he did sigh and murmur on occasion. He wondered if Slick would ever bear witness to that. As he woke, Scratch did not speak or otherwise do anything to draw the other man's attention, only shifted slightly and let a slow, quiet exhale. His eyes fluttered open, and turned upward towards the other man.

2014-09-10 17:14:58
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Slick slowly began to awake, or more so, let his body adjust to the fact it was time to wake up and he didn't need every limb to be numb. He still felt quite relaxed, though a bit on the irritated side from coming out of a slumber, but wasn't necessarily looking to outright stab someone on a whim... Maybe. His vision was slightly blurry as soon as he opened his eye, blinking a few times and giving a subtle grunt when he shifts in bed. It takes him close to two seconds to realize he's not alone, and glances down to see a familiar figure, but it's a blue of white and green. Wait. Green? He doesn't remember that being included in the background of his room, nor hideout.

As his vision clears up, he now realizes the one he's currently staring at quizzically is none other then Doc Scratch. The look on confusion on his face almost immediately softens and he gives a soft 'oh', before sighing and nuzzling briefly against him.

"I... Don't 'member... Fall'n' 'sleep." He mumbled with a slightly perplexed look, but it's gone quickly, and he is suddenly realizing he should probably unravel himself from the other. He hadn't meant to curl up so close, and slowly retracted himself from around Scratch before sitting up. It doesn't hit him at first that he should really be heading back, however when he glances puts his head in one hand and rubs at a temple before slowly freezing up and tensing.

"Oh fuck. I fell... 'Sleep." He growled, giving a curt curse before almost falling out of the bed in the process of getting off of it. He had to get his clothes on, grab his hat, and get in his car. Shit, what time was it? Well, that was a bit ironic, seeing that he absolutely abhorred clocks, but had a good amount of information as to what time the Crew usually woke up at. Slick was unsurprisingly the last to awaken, and knew he had to be in his room at least before anyone else woke up.

He yanks on his pants and is already buttoning up his shirt right afterward, glance shifting from his clothes, to Doc Scratch.

"Wait. D'ya mind if I... Go?" He asked a bit hesitantly, stopping his actions with putting his clothes back on and stood next to the bed on Scratch's side, scraggly looking and half clothed. Not to mention his hair was a bit of a mess and needed another round of hair gel to slick it back. It might have been amusing if one were an onlooker. One thing as to why he asked if he should leave or not was one, it was a bit odd to just up and leave, and two, a... Part of him didn't really wish to leave. He knew it was a must though, and wouldn't be emotional about it (that wasn't his thing anyway), but the feeling to stay was insistent.

2014-09-10 23:32:02
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Doc Scratch was confident he was not to be stabbed upon Slick's awakening, though he realized (not without a bit of amusement) not all others were as fortunate as he was in that area. If Slick did stab him on such an impulse as he had others before, with no material reason... Scratch thought he'd witness a rare sight: Slick feeling guilty, at least marginally, and perhaps trying to make some half-baked attempt at an apology. His expectations for the other man in such departments related to guilt and the like were not very high at all. One couldn't blame him either; Spades Slick rarely made exceptions for those sorts of things, though Scratch had already bore witness to it at least once beforehand. So as the other woke up, grumbling about how he didn't remember falling to sleep, Scratch kept his silence and listened, sitting up after the other had stood.

The robe was loose about his shoulders and legs, and Scratch himself looked distinctively disheveled; the Felt leader hoped Slick took a moment to etch all that into his memory, because he was never as out-of-sorts as he was in this instance, and it was all courtesy of him. He watched Slick's haste in dressing calmly, as if he could see the gears turning in the Crew leader's brain. It was not long before he stood and, straightening his robe just a bit, stooped to pull Slick's black jacket up off his floor. He shook it out a bit, as if to remove any dust (as if there was any), before inclining slightly at the waist and holding it open for the other man to slip on. He was nothing if not courteous, even now.

"Slick, I certainly will not begrudge you leaving." He said. "I understand your circumstances and that it is imperative you return to your own hideout at once." By the smooth tone and sentence structure, it was obvious the porcelain man had recovered well from his previous bout of inhibited speech, which Slick had brought on in his own ways.

"When it is time to go, it is time to go." He smiled wanly and his tone softened again. "It is not as if we'll never meet again."

2014-09-11 01:15:39
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The other's appearance was in fact noted, though Slck didn't speak upon, a slight tinge of amusement gripped at his vague emotions, but not so much as a smirk tugged on his lips to show as much. He merely studied the other closely, like he did most things, saving the information in his safe of a mind and assuming that he may not see the other like this again for quite some time. Even the small cowlick in his platinum locks was undeniably attractive; the man just looked (and seemingly always will be to Spades Slick) perfect and gorgeous. There was no denying it, and the taller made no effort to even do as such. He wonderd idly if he had gotten any sleep though, not that he had circles under his eyes or anything of the sort, but he didn't seem groggy or even hazy from a slim source of sleep. If anything, he looked perfectly fine, and one would envy the deity for that, but the Crew leader didn't.

He was instead more attentive towards his blazer being picked up, ridden of nonexistent dust, and then offered to him to slip on. He could say that the idea of the wives in the twentieth century helping their husband into their jackets before work came "vaguely" to mind, and would indefinitely be holding up his reputation as a deceiver. It brought a subtle smirk to his lips, but he does indeed maneuver to allow the other to help him slip on his blazer and shoulders it on comfortably before finishing up buttoning his shirt and fixing his slacks. Scratch's last words grab Slick's attention during the slip of the metal clasp of his belt puncturing through the precise hole in the belt loop.

"I don't even ha'ft'a have that omniscience shit t'a know that what ya say is true. I mean, c'mon, how can someone resist this?" He gestured to himself, having slowly started to gain enough coherence to be a bit sarcastic now, but soon cut his shenanigans and stepped forward.

"Don't answer that, cause I know ya will." He mumbled, tone said in a way that dismissed what he had formerly said. "But really-" A hand came up, carefully and tentatively brushing the back of his fingers in a caress motion over the paler's cheekbone.

"-I had a great time last night. Not just the sex or whatever, I mean, that was great too, but't'a..." He trails off then, trying to pull his words together and form a sentence that was comprehensible to express himself. Then again, he was awful at such a task.

"What I mean is, I like bein' 'round ya 'n' shit, in general, all right? That's my two cents." Slick visibly fidgets where he stands, withdrawing his hand and moving to slip on his shoes, those being a necessity in order to leave.

2014-09-11 02:46:10
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Slick's wondering if Scratch had gotten any sleep gave him a bit of pause; he hadn't, but the other man didn't need to know that. For the most part, nobody worried about Scratch at all- they knew he, more than anyone, was capable of taking care of himself. Every now and then there was an exception, however; Stitch had a habit of doing as much merely by habit. He did the same for everyone else, inclusion of Scratch must've just been a given. And sometimes, childlike and dim as they were, Eggs or Biscuits would ask if there was something wrong because of how serious he seemed, or, yes, if he'd been sleeping. They seemed to know him and his behavior better than most would assume, and had the most innocent ways of going about it. But having Slick wonder, if only for a brief moment about it, seemed to be something more. He wasn't sure if it was due to the relatively new status of their relationship or the fact he was supposed to hate him, and wish the exact opposite of goodwill on the Felt leader. Scratch found himself appreciating the idle thought anyway.

The one that hit him with a bit more impact was when Slick compared him to a housewife with his assistance in putting the jacket back on. The supposition threatened to raise a quiet tinge of color in Scratch's cheeks, but thankfully did not- Slick never missed it when he blushed, and he did not want to be looked at for some explanation. Even so, Scratch couldn't say he abhorred the same idea that caused Slick to smirk; in some odd way, he did find it appealing on a level. Which level he wasn't really certain. Well, it wasn't as if he'd never been some form of caretaker before. That spin on it just happened to make him want to blush, though. Scratch almost rolled his eyes when Slick asked him who would have been able to "resist" him, and all his charms. It was true Scratch could've had an answer with ease, and did, but neglected to supply it- likely for reasons regarding Slick's ego.

Scratch allowed himself a small blush when Slick's fingers brushed his skin, dark green tinting his stark white skin. He listened to Slick, feeling increasingly flushed as he did, though doing well to hide it. The opposing mobster had paid him great compliment, really; to get Spades Slick to admit he enjoyed himself and mean it genuinely had to be an admirable feat indeed. He felt pride swell a bit within him, but focused further on the man before him. When Slick pulled back to put his shoes on, Scratch spoke up in turn: "Thank you." He said softly. "Though I don't think that communicates just how... Grateful I am for your company tonight." Grateful seemed an odd word to use in that place, but it was what Scratch felt was best there- overall the thought remained that Slick didn't have to be there, didn't have to invest time in him, and Scratch felt appreciative of it.

"At any rate, I am glad you enjoyed yourself." Scratch smiled lightly. "I did, as well." Was added quietly after.

2014-09-11 11:33:17
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The blush on the other's features was undoubtedly something the mobster would never tire of. A partial of himself wished to tease Scratch on it, merely out of playfulness, however he resisted the urge knowing he didn't have time to dick around as much as he'd like. Once his shoes were slipped on, a small and soft snort came from him.

"Yea? I'll have to keep those words in mind next time." He shrugged subtly, not even bothering to fix his hair since it wasn't necessarily perfect when he gelled it either. He grabbed his hat as well though, holding the brim in hand before walking over to leave. He pauses at the mouth of the doorway though, brows furrowed before glancing over his shoulder.

"... Ya be careful." He doesn't quite know why he felt the urge to say that, but he wouldn't have felt assured without saying such a thing.

He made his way down the low lying ceilinged hall. Coming out at the end and was in Doc's office before slipping out of the green room, and into the green hall. It was only a matter of remembering how he'd first come there and retracing his steps before he was coming down a staircase and quietly making his way out of the peculiarly colored Manor. When he was back in his Cadillac, slamming his door shut as usual, when he leaned back, a small hiss came from him.

"What the shit-?! Oh..." He suddenly remembers the marks on his shoulder blade, expression softening from mildly irritated to creeping amusement. He'd undoubtedly have to clean out the scratchs, but he had no problem doing such a thing. He may not have gotten a full nights rest, but a few hours was better then none, and was driving back to his hideout in a moment or so, not as rushed as before, but the need to be back was still evident.

By the time he is back at the hideout, careful to crack open the hatch and avoid the audible creek it always gave, he's smelling coffee and can't tell if that means Droog is in the kitchen, or finished drinking coffee and is back in his room getting dressed for the day. He gambles upon the latter, climbing down the hatch and closing it before dropping to the floor with barely a noise. His hat was on his head at this point, but he took it off again before cautiously making his way down the hall, and out into the kitchen. It smelled of coffee ground and cinnamon, so he knew both Droog and Deuce were up, but didn't stay in time to make sure as he disappeared into his own room. Once in, he shut his door, sighing, and tossing his hat on his piano before starting to strip for a shower.

2014-09-11 14:20:20
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Doc Scratch couldn't convince himself that Spades Slick forgetting about the abrasions only to be reminded when they were agitated by contact wasn't at least vaguely amusing. It was very funny in his mind, and even if Slick complained to him about it and he apologized, he would not cease to consider it as much. But beneath the amusement, there was something else. It was akin to exhilaration, actually- Scratch had done that. He'd been the one to claw Slick's back open as the man took his pleasure. It was, in some way, proof he was capable of things of that nature. He could do that, and he had- it almost warranted pride from Scratch, but he was still caught up in the novelty of it all. Everything had him taking a bit of pause, everything made him want to sit back a moment and examine, take in what had transpired. After Slick said his farewells, Scratch smirking and nodding after being told to be careful, he did not wait long before shaking off the inactivity from the earlier hours.

Scratch showered first; it was not as if he felt particularly dirty or in need of one, but he was used to taking one at a certain time every day. This was a bit earlier, but he'd fill the time properly. After, he put on fresh clothes and went to pick those discarded on the floor up immediately- they'd be put in the hamper, while his bedspread was taken downstairs to be washed. It was not as if it was particularly dirty, and if so, only the top blanket would have been, but he would wash them all as a set. He didn't have an issue with washing everyone's laundry, but it was usually taken care of by the individual. As expected, they had multiple machine washers and dryers; it almost looked like the utility room of a college dormitory, but a deal smaller, and usually vacant, especially at this time of the morning.

After a while, Scratch could hear voices floating in from the ground floor kitchen, pieces of slow morning conversation coming through to him. As anticlimactic as it sounded, the topics were mild in severity; the weather moving in, reminders about things to be done during the day, groaning about things that had to be done during the day, all set to the sounds of cooking and clattering dishes. Only a few were up so early; the rest would trickle in as the morning progressed, and none would have anything breaking to speak of. No one had noticed the black Cadillac parked adjacent to the Manor for an obscenely long time, and no one had heard a peep from Scratch's room. As it should have been- Scratch was glad nobody had confronted Slick about sneaking back in, but he felt bad to have made him worry about it. Next time he'd be sure to visit Slick's hideout instead, so he would be the one sneaking back in.

2014-09-11 18:47:09
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After taking a quick shower that was really just a rinse to get all the grime and gel out of his hair and lower body, he toweled off and came to his room to see a mug of coffee sitting on the seat that coordinated with his piano. Steam rolled up from it, so that was what mainly gave away it's resting spot in the cool temperature hideout. Another hint would be the fact not a single object (besides his fedora, of course) was sitting, laying, nor draped over his piano and seat. If anything, it was the most pristine object in his room; not even his bed was exempt from unsheathed blades and flicked open pocketknives. This was because his piano was one of the only things he really gave a care about (besides his escalating relationship with Scratch), an even the Crew knew to be careful with the instrument, hence the mug on his bench rather then the keys. The coffee could only be a sign that Droog was definitely awake, and had dropped in to see if the boss was asleep or not before promptly leaving his morning caffiene.

Slick is still a bit baffled that he had spent the night at the Felt's Manor as he picks the mug up, sipping it as he goes to sit on the edge of his bed and plan out the rest of the day. He was careful not to sit on a knife, already having made that mistake one too many times. After he was situated, he contemplates how he even fell asleep in the first place, and supposed he must have tired himself out with the shorter man. That thought makes him scoff, slicking back his wet locks in one swift swipe of a hand, and downing about half of the steaming liquid before setting it aside on his nightstand. Originally, he wouldn't have dared think about being in the Manor for longer then necessary, and now he was willingly sleeping there with someone who was formerly a hated enemy? One would say that was absurd, but Slick certainly didn't think as much as that. If anything, he was entertained by such a fact, and got up from his bed to put on some clothes with a smirk at his own thoughts.

Once dressed, he tosses his towel... Somewhere in the mess of his room, grabs his coffee, and comes out of hiding. Droog was watching the news, and Deuce along with Boxcars were bickering about whether waxed lips or gummy bears were a better candy. Slick growls at this, already falling back into his dual custom of aggravation and annoyance like someone had snapped their fingers to take him out of his affectionate trance. The two certainly pause, Deuce huffing, and finally stop before going on about something else the leader was too preoccupied to eavesdrop on. With a glance, he noted the newspaper sitting on the table, and the peek of a paper named "Grey Ladies" in bold print. With a twist of his mouth so that his tongue stuck out, he picked up the papers and walked into the living room to throw it at Droog.

"Get your fuckin' porn outta the damned kitchen."

Droog caught the papers before they could even brush a feature on his face, raising a brow.

"I give you coffee, and this is the respect I get? Tsk, boss."

"Uh-huh, you're fuckin' noted. Jus' keep that shit in your own quarters." Slick grumbled, scowling.

2014-09-11 23:47:41
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Scratch had to pass through the now-occupied kitchen in order to exit the utility room, though he wasn't averse to any socialization at this hour. Some Felt members were notorious for not being morning people, and were best avoided at that time. Scratch could not attest to a preference for evening or morning personally; it merely depended on the activity in question. Some things were better suited to transpire in the dead of night, Scratch thought.

In the kitchen were Itchy, Doze, and Matchsticks. The first was sitting, thankfully, but had his chair tipped back and feet on the edge of the table. He was threatening to fight somebody, with the other two looking on tiredly. Doze was always some level of tired, but Matchsticks had been increasingly weary of late; Scratch was not blind to the goings-on within the Felt by any means, and had his own concerns, however concealed they remained. But by this point, everyone knew something had to happen. Scratch would adhere to his own reservations when it did.

"Chairs have four legs for a very good reason." Scratch said mildly, and they slammed to the floor, Itchy whipping his head around in surprise. He was one Scratch was partial to; many found him annoying because he asked many questions, talked loudly and frequently, and had no filter between his mind and mouth. But while he always said the first thing that popped into his mind, Itchy harbored no ill feelings toward Scratch whatsoever- in fact, he seemed to like him. And Itchy, like Doze, was very young. It was disconcerting, really- if Scratch had had any say in the recruitment process, they would not have been in the Felt. At Scratch's appearance, the scrawny black boy actually cracked a smile, which was a welcome sight. He wasted no time in roping Scratch into the conversation that seemed to belong only to him, while Matchsticks cooked on the stove and Doze slipped back off into sleep, cheek resting in his palm.

It was true the Felt was undergoing a few internal issues regarding the behavior of certain members, and the first member had quite a few things to say about it. Scratch listened, of course- what else would he do? He wasn't about to ignore anyone's voice, but whether it not he'd forcibly fix things... That was up to debate. Some things had to resolve themselves, and then he'd take action. That was easier thought to himself than explained, and if asked why he didn't do it himself, well, Scratch would be a bit uncomfortable. He was not a babysitter, and these were all grown men, for the most part. He hoped it wouldn't come to his own intervention, as that was not his style. Experiences changed people, helped them grow, for better or worse, and he was not about to tamper with that.

'Look at you,' Scratch thought as he exited the kitchen, Matchsticks' hollow eyes on his back. 'The Felt rots from the inside out and you had the gall to sleep with Spades Slick.'

2014-09-12 01:25:53
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The mornings at the Hideout were usually slow, things not kicking up until everyone had their morning caffiene or variating breakfast, then Slick finally bringing up a job or unfinished business for the day. Today was one he had been meaning to correct for a week or so, but had neglected to considering his incident with being shot.

"Ya know that bartender off of Main Street?" He asked his taller subordinate, sitting on the couch with him on the opposing end with his third cup of joe.

"You mean the one who's been dodging pay for six- now seven, days? Yes, I recall him." Droog was already on the same page as Slick, his gaze not once leaving the TV screen as he talks idly, like that of a programmed mechanism.

"Yea. I think today is his last day. I mean, I would'a talked some sense int'a that fuckin' idiot, but /you/ wouldn't let me." That just earned the boss a pleased smirk, the silver eyes of the taller glancing at him in a smug way before they were back upon the news.

"It was only for you're benefit, boss. My apologies if that was a bad thing."

"IT IS!" He snapped, almost spilling his coffee on himself in the process, and set the mug aside so there was no further hazards.

From that point on, the Crew had idle conversation, mainly small things, an eventually all were energized enough to go take a stop at one of the bars they looked over. The only ones who still had to get ready was Deuce and Boxcars, the smaller being in a wife beater and shorts, the taller wearing much the same, but with pants. Slick had already out on his suit for the day, and Droog, as always, had his on before he ever exited his room. Of course, the latter's hair was always pristine and not a hair out of place, compared to Slick's gelled back hair that had a few locks of hair jutting out sharply and awkwardly. He often got nagged by Diamonds about his hair, but always blew him off with a simple, 'I don't care' before the matter was dropped. Today though, they had skipped the nagging and had moved on to a comfortable silence, the other watching the news almost intently while Slick was just waiting for the next car accident or shooting so he may laugh at the idiot that got caught in the crossfire.

"So, I'm curious." The taller started in a slow manner, almost hesitant to ask. "Why did you push me away that one night?" Oh, he's going to start on this? Wasn't that... Nights ago? At least a week, undoubtedly. Slick wondered idly if he's been waiting until now, that he was calm and somewhat over the matter, to ask his boss the question that had been nagging him to the point of relentless aggression.

Spades Slick was silent for a moment, tapping a mechanical claw against the glass of his mug that was sitting on the table beside him, and also keeping in mind not to lean back in his seat, hence his claw marks.

"Why? I told'ja t'a get outta my damned room 'n' ya didn't, bastard." He replied swiftly, not necessarily telling the whole truth, but not lying either. His tone wasn't loud, mainly for the sake the other two didn't hear, but he did have a scowl on his expression.

"... Yes, well, for some nagging reason, I highly doubt that that was your soul purpose for having lashed out like that. I know you well enough to know with almost a 100 percent certainty that there is something else, but I digress. I'll find out sooner or later; you know that."

Slick has never been so intimidated by the other's words before in his life. Even when he was threatened to get the daylights beaten out of him by Diamonds' pool cue, he wasn't as tense as he was now. He had to force himself to relax, giving a snort and shutting himself up by downing the rest of his coffee.

'I won't let ya find out...' He thought with mild bitterness, annoyed.

2014-09-12 12:12:45