Cherubplay

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He'd furrowed his brows slightly at Scratch's words, at first contemplating when he'd said Slick wouldn't hurt him, '-not purposely', at least. A slight tinge of worry clutched at his chest at that very moment, but when Scratch had started to return his kiss, the worries soon depleted to nothing and he was visibly relaxing. Slick was one with poor posture and a prominent slouch, however his muscles were always tense and taut with both stress and being on edge. His temper didn't help either, and though he had been a bit relaxed in the first place, the physical interaction ridded him of his qualms. The steady, quiet purr only increased in volume as a second or two ticked by, the taller taking the lead and parting his lips enough to flick his tongue against the other's lower lip. It wasn't as swift and quick as when he'd ridded the same lip of vanilla cream two nights prior to the present. It was soft, light, and patient.

He doesn't even recall the last time he's actually taken time to await the progression of a kiss. Usually, he doesn't even have to start it anyway. Sometimes dames at bars or a drunk acquaintance snags one or two from him, and if he's not drunk off of alcohol, the simple action of lip contact has his head swimming delightfully. Well, most times it did. It really depended upon if his partner was a decent kissed or not, and with Doc Scratch following his lead, he was off to a great start. One of the hands at his sides shifts then, sliding slowly to the small of his back, and up before curling his fingers into his platinum locks and tugged ever so lightly to ease the short's head to tilt back a bit, and allow Slick access to his neck. He trails the affectionate kisses down, keeping them to slight pecks before lavishing his collarbone with untamed affection. Little green marks were littered in his wake, a pleased smirk on the taller's features.

The fact the other can heal quickly though, puts a very slight damper on his mood. It's soon overridden with the thought that he could leave repeating marks then, as many and anywhere he wanted then. That may or may not be a good thing for Scratch, personally, but it certainly was a promising thought to Slick. The taste of the other's trademark sweet had his mouth watering subtly as well, his sweet tooth coming into play and he vaguely wondered if this was a blessing, or a curse. He was finding himself more and more attracted to Scratch, someone who he'd wished to slit the throat of and watch bleed out for his own amusement. Though, now he sees that he not only feels bitter for thinking such violent thoughts towards him, he is also aware such an action is next to impossible, if not just that.

2014-08-31 19:21:01
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Maybe in the future it would be Scratch's turn to initiate the kiss becoming deeper, but tonight was not the time- it was Slick whose tongue he felt trailing across his lower lip, then allowed into his own mouth for brief contact against his own. There was a very small chance Scratch would want to be the one doing what Slick was, no offense meant to him. Those teeth were just a bit intimidating, and he didn't want to risk ruining the mood by souring the sweet taste Slick enjoyed so much with that of blood. That would have been horribly embarrassing, not to mention a little messy for a few moments there. While things such as the love bruises would disappear after roughly a minute and could be observed to fade, cuts sealed much quicker- but they still bled.

Though Scratch certainly did not want Slick's dangerously filed teeth applied to his tongue or any other part of him that happened to be particularly sensitive, they were just fine on his neck. He hummed quietly, more than content with the kisses and bites Slick was providing him. He was sure Slick would end with mussing Scratch's hair beyond recognition, but he didn't worry about that particularly. He could always comb it back into place later, after Slick got the satisfaction of seeing a bit of lasting effect done to the First Guardian in his lap. He knew it irked the taper man a bit that his bites wouldn't stay there.

Scratch shivered a bit when Slick's hand ran up his spine and secured itself in his hair, the smallest of smiles following it and dissipating quickly. His free hand almost matched the movement, resting again on the crown of Slick's head. He didn't know why exactly, but he enjoyed touching the other man's hair- running his fingers through it and stroking it as Slick administered kisses and nips to his smooth white neck. His own hair was rather different; soft, fine, and slow-growing. He hadn't had a haircut in a while, but that didn't seem to matter. He let Slick continue on his path with quiet hums to urge him on and a reassuring hand stroking his smoothed-back black locks.

2014-08-31 22:18:37
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As soon as he felt a hand combing through his own hair, he noticed the other was humming contently at his ministrations. It wasn't animalistic, or anything like that of which Slick was accounted with, but then again Scratch was more reserved, polite, and a lot more careful. In comparison, Slick was as clumsy as a fawn taking it's first few steps in the beginning of it's life; shaky, imprecise, and just overall reckless. Honestly, it's a wonder how such a tactful man could even be remotely attracted to someone as gruesome and violent as Spades Slick, out of all people on the god forsaken planet. Maybe that's why the taller wanted to keep this relationship rolling, he knew it wouldn't get any better then this, and what he had currently more then sufficed his needs.

One would be right into thinking Slick enjoyed making a bird's best out of Scratch's usually pristine hair, the satisfaction of knowing he'd cause such a muse being overly satisfying. Where as he was trying to mess up the opposing man's hair, the latter was doing the complete opposite in slicking back his raven locks. It was a comforting feeling, which coaxed him into continueing his littering of bruises that minutely disappeared into its former perfect white canvas. Since Scratch seemed to be following his lead, Slick was hesitant to continue, recalling a former night where he almost lost hold of himself, and don't want an incident like that happening once again. Some familiar side of himself wished to leave more marks, not just along his neck either, but a foreign side of himself lightly reminded him to watch what moves he proceeded with. The hand not curled in Doc's platinum locks shifts to run up the thin seam of buttons lining up the front of his vibrant green flannel, fingertips pausing when they lead up to his now tie.

When he felt the only recently familiar feel of the tie, he pulled slightly away from his area of attention, loosing his fingers in the other's hair enough to give him a subtle look that asked if he was allowed to continue. His loud purr slowly subsided to that of a quiet rumble, a hint of a smirk curling on his features as he was able to get a glance at his work so far with the white hair, and was obviously pleased.

2014-08-31 23:07:07
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Though Spades Slick was almost the very definition of Scratch's polar opposite, even and especially when it came to kissing and other intimate actions and behavior, Scratch couldn't say he disliked it. He was used to being the lofty and urbane man he was, barely ruffled at all by the words or actions of anyone else, but... This form of treatment wasn't foreign in a bad way, at all. Scratch enjoyed it, which seemed to shock him to some degree. The hand in his hair, sharp teeth on his neck, and growling sort of purr Slick sounded that seemed to sink into him all worked on Scratch well. Slowly, a dark green flush formed on the porcelain man's face, mounting as Slick continued his attentions.

When Slick pulled away, loosening his grip on Scratch's pale hair enough for him to tilt his head back a bit, he looked at the other man carefully, aware he was asking for permission.

"Go on." Scratch said warmly, eyes level with Slick's. "I trust you."

And Scratch did trust Slick with this- trust that he wouldn't try to abuse this permission. He was the first to receive it, after all, and he hoped Slick recognized that. He was the first for a lot of things, including actually trying, but Scratch would have time to ruminate on that later. He knew that the other man was trying hard to keep himself in check, which he admired in him. Slick might have been- okay, certainly was, one of- well, the most coarse of his supposed enemies, but he didn't lack in respect for Scratch's boundaries, which made the Felt's leader much more willing to let him closer.

2014-09-01 01:48:46
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He paused for a second or so, even after scratch had given him the go-ahead. He didn't want second thoughts, however, so he does indeed progress, the words 'I trust you' echoing between his temples as fingertips loosened the bow tie swiftly. It was a bit more complex then that of a regular tie, but not impossible, and soon he had the fabric undone and hanging around Scratch's neck comfortably as he leans in to snag another tasteful kiss. His hand wasn't done just yet, shifting down the button up and undoing the top button first with his thumb and first two digits swiftly. He's able to get a bit more then a few of the buttons undone in record time, though he hadn't yanked them even slightly. It was just a known movement and task he does with himself everyday, how hard is it to do to others?

The paler's deep blush doesn't go unnoticed by Slick, and he simply adores the sight. He keeps in mind to remember this is one of the few ways to get such a rare reaction, and glances down at his work with the other's shirt. He was able to get it halfway undone, pale flesh exposed and Slick could only blink once as a muscle in his jaw fluttered from how right he clenched his fangs together.

"Shit, you're gorgeous." He breathed out, still in a slight stupor as he doesn't even realize the words that had spilled from his mouth. It doesn't hit him or awhile actually, and it seems he wouldn't notice until much later with the way he was allowing himself to place a warm palm on the porcelain skin, and slide it upward from the upper portion of the abdominal area, over his chest, and around his neck, blue hue scanning over marble like skin. His own skin feels hot touching it, though he knows he isn't a furnace, just the simple contact an sight has a nice light pink blush tinting his cheeks.

Not a moment later, the task of littering marks over Doc Scratch's chest is set proceeded with, the hand around his neck sliding black down to delve into the flannel shirt and curl around his waist to lightly caress his back.

2014-09-01 02:53:39
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Though the notion of Spades Slick struggling to undo Doc Scratch's bow tie and growing frustrated with it was amusing to the latter, he didn't let so much as a grin slip onto his features as Slick worked at the knot at his throat. Once it had been done away with, Scratch watched as the other man began to unbutton his dress shirt. He had since withdrawn his hand from Slick's hair, not wanting to restrict his movements. Unsurprisingly, Scratch's chest was pale as the rest of him (that was, an impeccable shade of alabaster), and virtually hairless. He was thin but the lean muscles of his abdominals were well-defined, and though one might have suspected his ribcage to be pronounced, it was not. He was slender, not emaciated. Predictably enough he had no scars visible on front, and Scratch wouldn't suspect Slick of pulling his whole shirt off while they were just in the kitchen, so the one along his spine would stay hidden until such a time as he would reveal it. Scratch watched Slick carefully, however, searching for any signs of disapproval.

"Shit, you're gorgeous."

Doc Scratch's breath came close to hitching in his throat, and his eyes widened marginally while looking at Slick. That had been the first time anyone had called him something so... Kind? He wanted to label it as kind, as if Slick hadn't had to give him any compliments and was doing him some great favor by saying those three words.

"Th-Thank you," Scratch murmured, letting Slick have another small victory in getting him to stammer and stumble over his words. That was, of course, before Slick let his warm hand travel up Scratch's chest, eliciting another, far more noticeable shiver from the smaller man.

As Spades Slick inclined his head to repeat his process of kissing and biting Scratch's immaculate skin to mar it with less than long-lived hickeys, Scratch's hand returned to Slick's head, slim white fingers twining in his hair carefully. He wasn't stroking Slick's hair this time, more like tugging at it gently under Slick's ministrations. He almost felt embarrassed as a result of all the attention he was receiving- to say he was unused to it would be an understatement, but to say he disliked it would be very, very inaccurate.

2014-09-01 06:05:36
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The stutter from Doc Scratch was a bit surprising actually; Slick had recalled an earlier instance where he had stammered as well, but the reasons seemed to be entirely different now. Embarrassment could likely be the reason, for both instances, but either way, it made the taller smirk in accomplishment. He doesn't comment on it though, just continues with his own tasks and purrs lightly at catching the other shiver. Well that was certainly new, especially since he didn't think Doc would let himself express such delight in that manner without holding back a bit. Needless to say, Slick wished to earn more reactions similar to that, but lost his train of thought for a moment as pale fingers curled into his locks and tugged encouragingly. A noise between a content hum and subtle growl was coming from him then, mechanical claws tracing over the flesh at Scratch's lower back with pressure that one would think he'd break skin with. He was being quite careful however, and no such thing occurred, as much as he'd enjoy if it did, he wanted something... Well, slow and sweet.

There wasn't anyone better to do such a thing then with Scratch, seeing that he was undeniably more patient then Slick, or anyone the mobster knew for that matter. Droog was almost as rough as Slick /could/ be in bed, or in any scenerio really. He may have more patience then the Crew leader as well, but that's not saying much for anyone. That aside, Spades Slick was experienced in both affection and violence, he just chose the latter to be his go-to expression of interest. There have only been a couple people who have seen such an affectionate side of himself, but Scratch comes in at number one at the top of the very brief list.

The hand he had hooked around the crook of the other's neck was soon found to be rest at his lower abdomin, tracing the little dips and creases of muscle on its way down. His thumb brushed over the hem of his pants, then thumbed over the silver clasp of his suspenders. An itching sensation to take them off occurred; since Slick was solely use to belts, or none at all, his interest was perked at the peculiar contemplation that held the other's pants in place. He knew one thing, belts and suspenders don't mix. He's heard enough of that from Droog when Deuce decides to dress himself in his own... Odd way. It usually ends up with Deuce getting a bump on his head.

The clasp has Slick's attention now, but he doesn't undo it just yet. Instead, his fingertips graze up the strap, then hook themselves into it, clutching it as the taller hums curiously. He leans back in his seat, casual, and that should be alarming, if not a flat out warning as his blue hue glances up at Scratch from his dark green straps. With a smirk, he's able to yank the suspenders, and in turn making the other come forward at such a close proximity, his green splotches covered chest is pressed against Slick's. The mobster has now found out the accessory isn't as bad as he formerly thought.

"I like these." He admits in a tone mixed with devious interest and a greedy growl.

2014-09-01 16:51:26
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While Doc Scratch certainly was the sort to put a damper on his own reactions so as not to embarrass himself or seem too, well, excited about something, Spades Slick was making that task exponentially more difficult than it had been for him in the past. It was a bit disquieting how skilled the other man was in feeling him up, but Scratch knew now was not the time to stress himself, and focused simply on Slick's roaming hands. He made no move to stop them from outlining the curve of his back and abdomen, warming him with apparent ease. The pressure provided to the small of his back made him become a bit more taut, but not due to displeasure- more like containing the shuddering breaths which threatened to escape him and turn to pants or (dare he even think it) whines.

This practice was essentially tossed straight out the window when Slick grabbed him by the suspenders and yanked him forward; he'd been perched closer to Slick's knees than thighs prior, but after he found himself flush against the taller man. He'd managed to snatch a gasp out of Scratch, at least, before the shorter man regained any semblance of composure. Now, with his legs spread to accommodate their new, closer, proximity, his blush became even more pronounced. It wasn't that it was a particularly deep or violent sort, it was just that Scratch's white skin amplified the darker color. But it was still a respectable level of blushing.

Scratch almost tried to muster up some stubborn look in response to Slick's comment about his newfound appreciation for suspenders, but couldn't bring himself to maintain it. Instead, he let go of Slick's hair and let his arms slide over his shoulders, hands linking behind Slick's head. In this position he was slumped forward against the other man a bit, pressed marginally more against him than before. Scratch closed the short distance between them himself, engaging Slick in a simple but deep kiss now that they faced each other. He pulled back after a short period of time, locking eyes with him. His voice was low, as if they might have been overheard by someone else, when he said, "Though you were the one invited over, I feel as if I am the one being spoiled here."

2014-09-01 19:24:22
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The blush that practically scalded Scratch's facial features brings utter delight to Slick, feeling quite accomplished with his antics and imprinting the scene before him in some mental file located at the forefront of his mind. Not only the blush, but the surprised gasp he'd also earned was satisfying as well, if not endearing. The more intimate poison he'd yanked the shorter into has his skin prickling slightly, biting the innards of his cheek and subtly wondering as to how the Felt leader would react to such a close proximity and questionable position. He doesn't remove his hands from the other's suspenders, clutching them now actually as he wanted to keep Scratch close and enjoy the warmth he provided. It seemed the paler was Contemplating his next move, if the hint of a pause was anything to go off of.

Before the darkly dressed man knew what was coming, he felt the hand in his raven locks loosen, his brows furrowing slightly at this, and soon that same hand adjoined with the other is slid over his shoulders, and entertained behind his neck like an affectionate noose. He doesn't notice it, but he had inhaled quite deeply, enjoying the sweet scent of vanilla that masked his senses, and actually had to swallow down a pleased groan when Scratch initiated, for the first time without Slick asking to, a kiss. It was short lived, but deep and earned the pale man a very impressed and very thrilled mobster. When it broke, Slick's tongue flicked against the back of his teeth, tasting Doc Scratch there and allowing his hands to wrap around his waist under the fabric of his button up. He had a bit of a hazy smile on his lips, like he was drunk, but hasn't touched a drop of alcohol all night.

"Mmh, I don't hear ya complainin'." He pointed out at the other's murmur, copying his low tone and unable to wipe the smile from his features. He hadn't expected him to kiss him, and though it wasn't the first time, it was merely shocking Scratch had done such a thing, though not at all unwelcome. In fact, Slick could find himself encouraging the other at times to repeat such a process, though he doesn't worry about that now, being more focused upon the heat of his skin increasing in temperature and that familiar tingly feeling pooling at his abdominal area. He knew he shouldn't, but he was indeed turned on and was partially trying to wane it off, but being who he was combined with the fact he's gone longer then a week without getting laid? That's a sure recipe for disaster, in the most pleasing of ways.

"Y'know, ya should be careful... I got a sweet tooth, 'n' you're in a dangerous position." His words were almost too literal, however his purr doesn't leave his tone for a second to show he means no threat.

2014-09-02 01:02:37
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Doc Scratch was in possession of an expanded awareness, this was common knowledge to everyone in the manor, but it was also often forgotten by its patrons. This being said, he was fully aware that Spades Slick enjoyed and even took pride in the fact he was the one who caused the warm jade green blush on the other's ivory features. Scratch almost wanted to feel irritated in a way, embarrassed he had reacted in this way to the recent actions that had transpired between them, but... Generally everybody who engaged in this sort of thing reacted the same way he did, with the blushing and all. If Scratch responded with embarrassment or irritation to Slick's advances, the latter would think there was something wrong with what he'd done, when in reality there wasn't. Scratch didn't want him to think there was, because Slick had worked hard not to make a single misstep so far, and had done well.

Spades Slick had been pushing all the right buttons on Scratch, too, even if it wasn't as evident as it was from the other. Though experiencing these kinds of feelings firsthand was new to Scratch, he could recognize the responses Slick provided him and determine they felt more or less the same. His skin heating up, biting the inside of his cheek... Scratch was still for the briefest of moments and caught himself dumbstruck by the blatant proof he could evoke such feelings in other people. He could hear his own heart pounding in his ears as he listened to what Slick had to say. He knew he'd have to make capital decisions on how things went next here soon, and that Slick would defer to Scratch in order to get his answers.

"When you put it that way, you sound very much like a predator, Slick. Like you're threatening to bite me." Scratch mused softly, letting his eyes travel down to Slick's lips and the sharp fangs he knew they concealed. After that his eyes traveled up the taller man's jawline, his stubble and the shallow cuts inflicted by the many blades he kept simply lying around in his bed. It wasn't too long, however, that Scratch's brilliant eyes found Slick's icy one again, and rested there.

"That has me curious." Scratch said. "Why is my position so dangerous, as you said? What happens if I remain in it?" Scratch tilted his head a bit, examining the other man. Hopefully Slick knew his answers were important. "What /will/ you do, Slick?"

2014-09-02 03:20:09
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He gave a subtle shrug to the observation that he'd made it sound like he'd be leaving teeth marks in Scratch.

"Sounds like somethin' I'd do. 'Certainly ain't somethin' ya can't handle. Dunno if I could hurt ya, though..." He mumbled the last sentence quieter then the first two, a bit shady himself on whether he'd actually allow himself to do anything to legitimately draw blood. Sure, that first time they'd had an 'interrogation', Slick was allotted to nick Scratch's neck with a precise nip of his fangs, but that was out of curiosity. This, would be much if fervent and a bit more... Complicated. It would have been more intimate then a simple nick, and there's no telling what he'll do once he's hot and bothered and had the taste of iron on his fangs. He's sure he can control himself, however, but he'd take things slow nonetheless. He can't have himself going overboard with his own antics and in the end fucking up their relationship six ways to Sunday.

As that thought sunk in, he took note of the other studying him closely. He didn't partially know what for, but he did know that he felt slightly exposed under his peculiar gaze. It wasn't a bad thing, more so foreign since he can't recall someone looking him over with such... Interest? He couldn't exactly pin what it was that Scratch was emanating, but Slick sat still for him and kept a hint of a smile on his lips. It wasn't until the other started speaking did he perk up a bit, tuning into his words and eventually furrowing his brow slightly as he got the creeping sensation that his words could very well be the seal to the deal. A part of him wanted to spin some twisted and undoubted bull shit, however he knew that wouldn't end well for him if he in fact did such a thing. So, his only other option that was left was to, well, tell the truth; what exactly he meant when saying Scratch was in a dangerous position. Now, he had to carefully word it, sure, but the ever so present warmth of the other pressing against him, and his signature scent didn't help him focus any easier. At least he was more relaxed then he's been in quite awhile.

"... What am I gonna do?" That's a spectacular question, an embarrassing one, but a great one regardless.

"I dunno. Prolly continue to get turned on or some shit." He pauses, contemplating his own thoughts as his hands idly rub at the other's lower back in soothing circles.

"There's really no tellin' what I'd do; however, I can say it wouldn't be anythin' either of us would regret. Another thin' is, I wouldn't be pissed if ya wanted t'a stop anyway." He admitted, sighing softly. "Whatever the hell I'd do, 'n' ya know damn well what it'd be, can wait, or it doesn't have to happen at all. Hell, I'd be content jus' sittin' like this, but I can't deny I want more." He shrugs one shoulder subtly. "I can deal with the kisses bein' all I get when considerin' intimacy, that I can do. What I can't do, is pushin' ya away, so that's why I'm fuckin'... Intimidated t'a do anythin', y'know?" Another shrug, and now he's at a loss for words. He was being truthful, at least, and honestly didn't want to turn this entire situation upside down; he'd be overly pissed at that. Though, he may not have been the best at explaining his thoughts, at least he wasn't bull shitting Doc Scratch like he would anyone else without even hesitating.

2014-09-02 17:13:20
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Doc Scratch let his immaculate posture slip just a tad, almost unnoticeably, in response to Spades Slick's back rubbing. Generally everyone always pegged Scratch as ludicrously calm, to an unsettling degree, but he defied this and proved to be more stressed than most other Felt members. This was not only because he had all of them to worry about, but a few other matters that were, in blatant honesty, far above their heads. Doc Scratch was not the boss of the whole operation, not really; he answered to another, whose demands were much more... Outlandish, to put it loosely. His omniscience was another factor, believe it or not, and most forms of stress relief were a bit lost to him in light of it. Slick's back rubbing, however, had him loosening up gradually. Scratch wouldn't let himself simply lay in against Slick's chest, however, as there was still business to conduct.

"One thing I respect to a very high degree, Slick, is honesty." Scratch began, and his tone was reminiscent of a schoolmaster's- in a way he was teaching Slick a thing or two. It was strict, yes, but softened as he went on: "Since I can always tell when someone is lying I, under most conditions, expect them to be entirely truthful when asked to present an answer, even and especially when it is opinion. I am very glad you hold to that standard because... Let us be frank, your track record in regards to lying isn't exactly the best." Scratch smiled briefly, hoping to convey he meant no ill by that. "But you were wise enough to tell me the truth of what you thought, which was good of you. And it so happens I find your answer very... Satisfactory." More than that, if the warm smile that followed his statement were any indication. Scratch was just relieved Slick felt that way- it was noble, ironically enough. Something about this jagged, greedy man was noble.

"That being said, I can't find much of a reason at all to say no." Scratch told him. "The only thing I can foresee is scheduling, really; perhaps I'm over-thinking this, but a time when you are not expected back, or would not be in too much trouble should you be caught sneaking back in." Scratch knew all the open timezones, really, so that issue would have been easily resolved should it be raised.

"That and, if you really do wish to continue, the kitchen isn't really an optimal area to... Conduct such activities, shall we say." A light, almost lax smirk graced his features for a few moments, and Scratch had said all he would; he hadn't run dry of words, no, but they'd come to their natural end instead. His thoughts hadn't, however- and part of Scratch dearly wanted Slick to be able to stay longer after they'd finished. They didn't have to talk or anything at all, but... Some part of Scratch did not want to be left immediately after.

2014-09-02 22:10:22
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He didn't even seem to notice the way Scratch had started to relax minutely against his touch, merely continueing in a rythmic motion and raising a raven brow subtly at the other's words. It soon lowers however, replaced by a a light chuckle as that was all he could reply with when his lying shenanigans were brought up into the equation. He couldn't simply deny it, as much as he prefer to do so. One, he'd be proving his own words wrong by doing so, and two, Scratch would automatically know his original thoughts upon the matter. That should have rubbed him the wrong way, the paler's omniscience always being one step ahead of the Crew member; maybe even more then a step or two. This should definitely ruffle his nonexistent feathers, however if surpringly doesn't. In a way, Doc Scratch keeps the violent and more homiscidal man in check, so to speak. He didn't necessarily continuously check up upon him and tell him what was right or wrong, but knowing he'd be aware of any and all of Slick's moves somehow mentally manipulated the taller into wishing to please him... Sometimes, at least.

Like now, he paid the shorter's words much attention, and took a bit of notice at the fluttering in his chest at the other's warm smile. It seemed it's very warmth kicked the taller's temperature up a notch or two, not that he really minded, but it made being patient that much harder.

"Ya like truthfulness?" He gives a slight smile. "Dunno why the fuck you're interested in a guy like me then. I'm pretty damned sure I make that word cringe with despair, but hell if I know." His back rubbing continued or a few moments longer as he listened carefully to the last few sentences, his brow creasing once more, before slowly relaxing, and his hand on the other's back pauses.

Wait. Was he serious?

Slick must have been dreaming. Not in a way that he has such perverted dreams or that sort, more so it was just too surreal, if not a bit startling that Scratch was actually fine with continueing. Slick doesn't know what he said or what he did to get a man such as the Felt leader himself to allow him to actually sleep with him, but the mobster isn't particularly complaining about it either. He doesn't voice his sudden growing curiosity, nor his relief, instead he asks, "Whadd'ya mean the kitchen ain't a'ight?" Well, that wasn't the brightest question he's ever asked, and soon answers his own question as his mind wanders, and he eventually agrees with the other.

"Ehh, never mind, don't answer that." And now another question arises. "... Wait. If not here, then where?" He asked curiously, and doesn't even notice his hand had started back up it's rubbing and light rythmic scratching along the paler flesh of, well, his better half; in more ways then one, Scratch really was the greater of the two. Though, one would have to kill Slick before he would willingly admit to such a thing.

2014-09-02 22:53:18
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"You look surprised." Doc Scratch, as acute an observer as always, said bluntly. He almost cringed; did he really come across as so prudish that him even addressing things in a conversation that was decidedly sexual seemed odd, or shocking in some way? While it was true he'd never slept with anybody, the fact of the matter was that he knew more about how it all went than Slick did. Did he want to know? Not necessarily. But he did nonetheless, and hoped Slick came to realize it on his own accord because Scratch wasn't saying it anytime soon. He felt a bit embarrassed already, and didn't need any of that.

"Listen, Slick." Scratch paused, gathering his thoughts; this was a feeling a bit difficult to put into words. "I'm not just giving you permission here. I am expressing my consent, yes, but I also mean that I want this as well; I am not agreeing to get the topic off the table or to sate you. The feeling is mutual." It felt as if he were expounding on something that did not need it, but he wanted to be absolutely clear with Spades Slick. Scratch sat back a little then, leaning more into the hands that held his back. Carefully, as if unsure this move would be considered acceptable, he slipped one hand up to gently frame Slick's face. He simply held it there, the contact soft but nothing near plaintive, enjoying the basic form of intimacy.

"As for your other question, well." Scratch chuckled softly, as if the question's source had been a small, curious child instead of the man he intended to sleep with in the near future. "I rarely use it, but I do have a bedroom here, like every other member of the Felt." His tone was playfully teasing, but he wasn't about to overdo it. "I think that would better suit the intended purpose of both rooms, if I do say so myself."

And Scratch really had nothing to hide in there; he knew Slick would have his sights set on him, rather, not whatever possessions might have lined the other's shelves. It was very clean, too, as opposed to Slick's own quarters.

2014-09-03 00:34:29
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What could he say? He was admittedly surprised, and that was that. Though, the way Scratch had pointed such information out had him slightly thinking that wasn't a good thing. He didn't particularly mean for it to be, it was just an automatic sensation more then anything else, a quick accusation really. He knew Scratch was fully capable of holding wants and desires, he just never really put much thought into it. It was all about rolling the nonexistent ball, going about with whatever was tossed carelessly his way, and maybe he shouldn't have become so comfortable with rolling with the unexpected, but he couldn't force himself to quickly change accommodations so quickly. He felt as if he should slap his own wrist, but he doesn't, and instead makes up for his lack of simple reasoning by paying his devoted attention to Scratch.

"I know that..." He mumbled, a bit irritated with himself. He may have been aware of what the other explained, however he didn't /realize/ it until he pointed it out. Maybe he does need to pay a bit more attention, rather then jumping boulder to boulder across a river of 'Don't Fuck Up'. It was complicated; their relationship was complicated, but what good relationship went silky smooth all the way? So far, Slick hasn't found the supposed 'perfect' relationship. The ones he has heard of are ragged and bumpy, scars all over, but somehow the couple always pull through, oddly enough. Maybe that was the foundation of an understanding between two beings? Hell if the mobster knows.

When the other shifts, Slick looks a bit off set, but the added hand to his cheek coaxed him into comfort and contentment as he leans ever so slightly into it. Some embarrassing part in Slick's self consciousness feels as if such a gentle touch could cause him, even in his most enraged state, to calm down to a declawed kitten. It was that affective. A part of him felt perturbed by such a realization, but the majority didn't seem to mind it all that much; it was better then allowing him to rampage the city and burn it to high-heaven.

He was aware he'd asked a bit of an ignorant question when Doc Scratch chuckled, but could only muster up a half grin in return.

"Why didn't I think a' that? I feel enlightened, 'n' a bit stupid all a' sudden." He scoffs softly, and glances down from the other's chiseled from perfection face to his porcelain chest. A small part of his conscience wanted to tell the other he should probably button that who're they go anywhere, but the more blatant and amused side begged to differ. He enjoyed seeing such exposed skin, one hand supporting the other's back, as the other slipped to the front and lightly caress the almost blinding white flesh in quiet fascination.

2014-09-03 01:23:42
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When Spades Slick rested his cheek further into the paler man's palm, he felt a small sense of pride within, the sort that came with hoping you did something correctly and succeeding. He enjoyed the feeling, and was glad Slick was so comforted by it; even with his omniscience and the magnetism between them, they were sure to have the odd problem between them. Though Scratch would do all he could to help resolve them, it'd take aid from Spades Slick as well. That was how couples worked, after all. Even though Scratch had never been in one, he was blessedly aware of how they worked, and he'd seen it done wrong all around him. So as not to say Felt members were incapable of conducting healthy relationships; only a few were dysfunctional in that regard, which concerned Scratch from time to time. But he had never been one to intrude in the Felt's personal lives, even if he thought it would be for the best.

Doc Scratch was about to pipe up in order to inform the other man that they could relocate to the aforementioned room whenever he so desired, after Scratch rose to take Slick's dessert plate and wine glass to the counter (and buttoned his shirt- he wouldn't have forgotten that one), but was rather distracted by the other man's hand roving over his chest. His cheeks warmed up again, only slightly, as he looked down to see his flat, exposed abdomen. When he faced Slick again, it was with a small half smile. He was still a bit, well, pleased that Slick had called him gorgeous. It had made him feel just that, and arguably had made the First Guardian's night. It might have shown a bit; his eyes glittered in a manner one could almost label mischievous as he asked the taller man, "Are you having fun there?"

2014-09-03 02:55:02
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Slick was many things, of various names and tendencies. He was a jokester; a thief; undoubtedly a liar; a hustler; but out of all things to be, he was most certainly not a gentleman. In any shape, way, or form, the Crew leader was not categorized in anything even remotely related to such a word. Whether that was because he was raised a certain way, where 'hate' was spoken about more often then 'affection' or even 'love', or if it was because he was naturally a sour man, was up for conversation. Either way, up until this point, his name has proven to be one that many in the town fear. Maybe not /specifically/ his name, but if anyone even uttered 'Midnight Crew', shivers were racked up peoples' spines. It's proven helpful, at least, especially when dealing with bar owners who were late on pay. But, on to the present time with the deity on his lap, he was now... Almost, harmless. That's not to say that if Sn0wman or some other sort of Felt member were to bust inside the kitchen, he be polite; more so, merely around or with Doc Scratch, he was indeed a harmless, declawed kitten. Whether he wanted to or not, really.

Spades Slick was well aware Doc could kill him at any given moment, whether he wanted to or not was up to debate, and leaning more so towards 'no', but the fact still remained. Currently though, he doesn't take into consideration that he could have his neck snapped, or something else gruesomely terrifying. He's more so concerned about playing his cards right in being that supposed 'gentleman' he didn't think he'd ever want or wish to be. He still enjoys violence, that much is a given, however he does have a better outlook upon when a certain exterior of character is needed, and when it was not. With his hand on the other's chest, he found it much more preferable compared to a dagger sitting there; plain and simple.

When questioned, his icy hue glanced up, then back down to the pale skin.

"Yea." He replied simply, as if it was an already known fact, which it probably was in Scratch's case. Slick would never tire of the green dust that would tinge the other's cheeks whenever he'd do something even slightly affectionate. It was a slight reward really, as if the more good he did, the better the other reacted, and he enjoyed it deeply.

"I think ya are too." He teased lightly, smirking wide enough that a gang protruded from his upper lip. He was able to understand hen the other was teasing or not now, though it wasn't exactly obvious, seeing and hearing him do so a couple of times was enough to help him peg the other's subtle hints. His thumb grazed over the paler's collarbone, dipping into the hollow, and then sliding his palm down gentle before stopping at his mid-abdomen. It was known the other would have to get up, but Slick was quite comfortable, and practically marveled at the perfection before him.

2014-09-03 12:47:24
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Doc Scratch was on the other end of the spectrum; the man could be described as nothing less than genteel in his entirety, treating both his enemies and subordinates with the same level of respect. Even if he had not entered into a relationship of this nature with Spades Slick, he would have been likely to address him with some sort of respectful nomenclature, never some nickname (as Slick had called him "Cue Ball" early on) or detrimental form of terminology ("smug bastard" being a prime example). If he were aggressed, perhaps- but he'd really have to be in the heat of things in order to stoop to name calling. Perhaps it was this that off-set any aggressors; his line of work was a dirty one, and no one involved could get in or out without copious amounts of red being added to their ledger. But Doc Scratch had the poise and attitude of some refined man of society, not some hard-boiled and tried mobster. But his rap sheet was near incomparable, of this he was aware; he was a cheat and liar just like Slick was, a murderer and saboteur. He was sure that, given the full account of Scratch's involvement in other, far-removed goings-on, even Spades Slick would recoil from him. But he didn't know any of that, and Scratch would see to it he never did.

This instance was entirely off the vernacular. The aforementioned traits he shared with Slick were a result of his actions on behalf of Lord English's direct orders. His conduct here was not governed in its entirely by his master; some things were necessary, yes, but other than that, he had free rein. And with it he made himself out to be urbane host he was. This whole romantic endeavor fell under the same standard- there were no orders to follow. He was in control of his own actions, and largely they were based off of his wants and desires. Those were alien topics individually; Scratch was very used to the mindset of a servant, specifically that of English's, and had never really given much thought to what he, personally, wanted. That had changed now- a lot of things had.

Doc Scratch felt that pang in his chest again- something akin to a stab, he wanted to say, but it wasn't even close to pain it produced. In fact, he almost had to stifle a groan. He knew what it was in Slick's eyes as he looked him up and down, though it was the first time he'd ever been subject to it. It was nothing short of adoration the clear blue eyes of the opposing man held, and it was honestly and truthfully intended for Scratch. Scratch felt the overwhelming urge to kiss him, which he countered with the stifling of what appeared to be a worried frown. Instead, he found Slick's hand and put his own over it as he worked away from the other man, disentangling himself from his embrace. Once Scratch again stood on his own, he helped to pull Slick up, though he was sure the latter didn't need it. A bit of green still peppered his face from Slick's statement, but he knew he was caught anyway; he has been having fun, hasn't he? Of a sort, at least. He smiled to himself as he began to tuck his shirt back in in the front and rebutton it, looking down at the fading green marks the other had left.

2014-09-03 19:19:47
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Slick had been so entranced with the other's skin that he didn't even notice the inner conflict going on in the shorter man. Until, at least, a pale hand was placed atop his own, snapping the taller out of his senses and glancing back up to the other's facial features. He had a look that hinted at 'oh shit, did I stare off?', accompanied by the sudden slight crease between his brows at the worry-like frown on the other's expression. The first thing that came to his head was,

'Fuck, did I say somethin' I shouldn't have?', and though he wished to contemplate that thought a bit longer, he was soon eased over by Scratch helping him off the bar stool (it was unnecessary, but he was at a loss for declining the offer and accepted it in the end anyway; who would know?). Once down on his own feet, he does a quick check on himself before figuring he should take his hat and blazer from the stools they rested on. It wouldn't be advised to leave them at least, seeing that someone could very possibly come upon them and take one good look at the dark clothing before immediately coming to the conclusion that the spade stitched onto the inner breast pocket of the clothing belonged to their rival. That, or they'd be deeply concerned and more then likely ask Scratch what in the blazes it was doing in the Felt kitchen.

Casually, he leans up against the bar, his blazer resting over his shoulder and his hat clutched in one of his hands. He glanced out the corner of his icy hue at the dishes sitting on the bar's surface then, and ended up giving a soft grumble with a roll of his eye before putting his glass and plate in the sink. It felt odd doing such a task, but he at least felt comfortable in not cleaning them; he merely set them in the sink like he squally did in the hideout. By that time, Doc had finished buttoning his shirt and tucking it in, earning a displeased look from Slick.

"I suddenly hate suits more then I usually do." He admitted in a sort of mumble with a tinge of bitterness, but he knew it was necessary to cover up the 'evidence', so he supposed he could deal with it for a few more minutes or so. He still enjoyed having left such delightful marks on the other, and took note to leave more.

"... Ya gonna lead the way, or do I gotta wander 'round like that one night 'gain?" He asked with a slightly cocked brow, smirking a bit.

2014-09-04 00:14:32
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At Spades Slick's quip about wandering the halls unaccompanied, Doc Scratch briefly considered telling him that, as long as Scratch was with him, the chances he was to be caught were next to nonexistent. Scratch, though his qualms with the issue were well known, was fully capable of bending any mind to his favor- and thus, erasing Slick's presence. He figured that, if absolutely necessary and for the better of them both, he would resort to those tactics in order to secure Slick's safety. He knew that the calm he was capable of instilling in the vicious monster was conditional, and if roused, he certainly would retaliate against any aggressor present. But that would not be necessary, not if Scratch had a say in things. In more ways than one, Scratch had the very last say.

Scratch smiled at Slick's back, watching him place his own dirty dishes where they belonged. It made him grin in spite of himself; it was, well, cute. That was all his voluminous mind could think of that described the action. Scratch gathered his own gloves and white suit jacket, simply putting the garment over his arm and waiting for Slick to rejoin him. Once he did, Scratch laughed again, softly.

"I promise to limit the frequency with which I say this, but please exercise some patience, Slick." Scratch said with a smile. "And no, no wandering will be necessary; I can lead you there well enough, and we certainly do not want to run any risk of you stumbling upon some, ah... Less than friendly tenant." With that, he slipped his hand into Slick's and led him slowly from the room. They would pass the main staircase, taking the hall to its far end where another, more narrow staircase led the two up another floor. The doors to Scratch's apartments were large but strangely positioned, as if thrown into the manor's design at the last moment. The hall was empty, however, and they entered unseen.

2014-09-04 02:34:11
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"Patience? The fuck is that s'pose t'a mean?" He grumbled, knowing very well what the word meant, and that the point that he should have a higher tolerance for waiting in general was a lighthearted suggestion. Even if one were to pay Slick to wait push his tolerance further then he was comfortable with, he'd end up cracking and overflowing like that of a soda bottle shaken one too many times. Except, the carbon was an airborne virus that instantly killed whatever victim was within a fifty yard radius; much more lethal then the usual sort of over carbonated soda beverages. Of course, Slick would be much louder, more so then his usual gruff and obnoxiously tone of voice, and would make someone like Hitler look like a mediocre murderer rather then the genocide influencer he was known to be.

He was still silently sulking a bit when he finally took notice of the snow white hand that slipped casually into his own. He did a sort of glance down at the contact, then back up his gaze went as he curiously studied the path Scratch led him down, making sure to burn the memory into his mental safe to crack later. There was a vast amount of clocks spread out seemingly everywhere, the insistent ticking and tocking of the mechanisms rubbing him quite the wrong way. However, he started to pay a bit more attention to what was going on around them when they took a turn down an unfamiliar hall. It was much quieter, though the the perturbing sounds of the clocks were indeed still present (no shocker there), Spades Slick found he could hear himself think. Now, he found it a bit unsettling what with the lack of noises, and clutched the brim of his fedora tighter before coming to two immense doors.

He just about almost dropped his wide brimmed fedora, blue hue widening slightly at the size of the doors, and suddenly felt quite small. He didn't particularly like this feeling; Droog and Boxcars were undoubtedly taller then himself, and would often point that out to him. It pissed him off more often then not, and he'd inevitably end up grabbing whatever was closest to him at the time (more then likely a switchblade he'd been either playing with or sharpening), and chuck it at them (usually at a non-vital place since he had an impressive aim).

"... Y'know what? I'm done tryin' to figure out how the fuck y'all have so much fuckin' space, in this goddamn big ass green Manor, 'n' don't get lost. I would've never found this shit on my own." He points out in a bit of bafflement. The doors would be hard to miss, but whether Slick would come upon it in the first place or not was another story.

2014-09-04 03:20:24
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"Patience with my suit which, quite suddenly, you seem rather opposed to." Scratch smirked over his shoulder, though his tone remained innocent enough not to give any indication he knew what his own words implied. He opened the doors for them, waiting until Slick had entered to close them softly. His were essentially the only doors in the whole of Felt Manor that had never been slammed. Scratch did not intend to change that, though he could imagine a setting in which Spades Slick was the one to do so. He seemed the sort to slam doors regardless, Scratch figured. Inside was the office anteroom that, honestly, Slick shouldn't have had an interest in whatsoever. It was only compromised of his desk, the chairs in front and behind of it, and the only clock he had in his apartments. He knew they made Slick uneasy, and thankfully this one (a tall and ornate grandfather clock) made little noise. Slick could ask why someone who knew everything needed a clock to tell time, but Scratch doubted it'd stick in his mind for long.

In regards to Slick's very blunt statement about becoming lost in the Manor, Scratch only chuckled. He didn't know the half of it.

"In the beginning, yes, quite a few members did become lost. More of them than will admit it, at least." Scratch almost wanted to put his jacket over the chair as he did so often, but refrained. That would indicate he was inside somewhere, and even if someone intruded, he didn't want them sticking around. "I always told them the same thing; if they were to become lost, putting their left hand on the wall and following it would lead them eventually to a staircase, which they could take down a floor and eventually find the foyer, if they hadn't regained their bearings by then." It was once again evidenced Scratch was a clever man, but he just thought the idea of everyone getting lost in the depths of the green mansion was amusing. He hoped Slick took into account the size and home field advantage the Felt had if he ever decided to make some sort of assault on the place.

Doc Scratch would further lead Slick through the doorway on the back wall of his office; there was no actual door there, just a step down onto a hardwood floor and sitting area. This is where he paused, though made a point not to look either confused or awkward. The next door, on the other side of the small room, was the one who led to his bedroom. It was almost as if it'd been made purposely that way, like the final room was somehow more difficult to reach. Well, Scratch wouldn't lie- it certainly was, in more ways than one. Now he simply laid his jacket across the back of one of the two low-lying couches, after which he turned back to the other man.

"I know it's not much." He said jokingly, almost embarrassed at how drastically different their quarters were- and Slick hadn't even seen the bedroom yet.

2014-09-04 11:40:05
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Slick could only narrow his eye at the other when he spoke of Slick's disapproval for him wearing his suit. The tone was simple enough to set off a few flags and allow the Crew leader to realize 'he's fuckin' with me', before the doors were opened almost as quietly as they were shut. For a moment, he glanced around, then his gaze landed on the desk. The almost overwhelming urge to scrounge through the green furniture clutched him at the spine and refused to let go willingly. He had to bite his tongue and shove his free hand not holding his hat into his pocket. Some habits die hard, he supposes, and that desk must have had a-class information; or not, Doc was a peculiar man, not necessarily in a bad way, just odd really.

"I'm guessin' by the chairs in front of that desk there, other Felt members come in here too, or am I jus' assumin' wrong?" He waits until the other leads him to a doorway, and pauses there. He doesn't quite understand why they paused, but he does, and furrows his brow curiously.

At Scratch's apologetic tone, Slick scoffed, obviously fighting an amused smile.

"Ya gotta be jokin', right? Stop fuckin' repentant." He didn't sound as harsh or pissed as the words themselves implied, and the upward quirk of the corners of his mouth proved that he wasn't necessarily rubbed the wrong way either. The place was just huge, more so then Slick was use to, but he supposed that when a group of fifteen or so members of a gang get together, they'd like a bit of space between each other for personal purposes. It was the same with the Crew, though they always end up having /some/ sort of scuffle each and every day, Slick blames that upon all of them (excluding deuce) having respectively short tempers. As a result of having short tempers and having petty fights often, the small space somehow rouses more tension without each other putting distance between them. At least Droog often retires to bed early when thoroughly pissed, but Slick and Boxcars stay up without a wink of shut eye. Which is probably why the two usually get in more arguements then with anyone else.

Slick glances from Scratch, up to the doorway, then back down at him.

"Why the hell did we stop here? 'N', no, I ain't bein' impatient, I'm his' fuckin' curious." He shrugs one shoulder, a gesture he did often with the one arm that wasn't bionic.

Speaking of, if one Felt member were to come upon them, even now, Slick would prefer it if it were Sn0wman. He'd be delighted to hell and back, really. Though, his feelings toward her were as pitch black as his own Cadillac, there were some affections held. More so out of not knowing what to do with himself around her; being infuriated just by looking at someone was intense, and considering Slick's usual confusion towards emotions other then violence and hostility, he was at a loss with her and assumed, well, might as well kill her. She just rubbed him the wrong way, and after what she did to his eye and arm? He was going to take both of her own eyes out and make her eat them whilst he beat the Felt member in the back of the head with her own dislocated arm.

He hated her. Spades Slick undoubtedly abhorred the bitch known as Sn0wman.

2014-09-04 12:46:03
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"Yes, other members of the Felt do come by from time to time." Scratch said mindlessly. "Usually per my request, as there are things that need discussed, or sometimes because some correctional action is order as a result of certain behaviors." He broke away from the serious tone with, "So you can imagine not many drop by of their own accord, simply for conversation." He grinned sardonically, though it had technically been a shot at himself.

Doc Scratch? Well aware of the animosity present between Spades Slick and Snowman, would still prefer it be her that stumbled upon them, if anyone had to. He'd take some small, twisted victory in it, really; his mind worked in odd ways, this was true, but he'd still consider it a one-up on the woman. And if anyone could keep Snowman and Slick from immediately going for each others' jugular veins, it was he. Maybe not without forcing them apart, but he could subdue both long enough to diffuse the threat entirely, most likely by dismissing Snowman. For her own safety, of course.

"And the reason there was a pause here is because I know you make it a point to commit things to memory, the layout and contents of these areas included." Scratch said conversationally, eyes and expression placid. "This is only expected, who wouldn't do as much, after all? I honestly do not care. It isn't as if the more important files are kept here. I do not fear you trying to steal anything either." Scratch shrugged. He knew the most important things, the things that would have been of most use to Slick and to the Crew's benefit, were not written down. Slick might have compared his own mind to a vault, but Scratch's was undoubtedly an all-encompassing hard drive; it could not be stolen, and his unrivaled power made interrogation by any means useless. In a sense, he was the highest security vault there was- information only left him by his own accord, and he could not be dissuaded otherwise.

"But I suppose there isn't very much in here to pique your interest in that regard." Scratch said, one corner of his mouth drawing up in half a smile. For perhaps the first time this night, he folded his arms behind his back, delicate hands clasped together at the small of his back. "Let us continue." He turned and patiently headed toward the next and final doorway, steps soft and heel-toe on your floor. There was no door to the bedroom either, simply a short hall. It was dark within, because the lights hadn't been left on, but Scratch maneuvered through the room with no hesitation. When the lamp on his bedside table was flicked on, it revealed a small room, dresser drawers pushed against the wall and closet door closed. The door on the left was slightly ajar, but the inside (his bathroom) was darkened. Scratch straightened his back from turning it on, looking wordlessly over his shoulder to Slick.

2014-09-04 17:13:43
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Though the other had made a poor jab at himself, and it was originally purposes to be amusing, Slick only found himself giving a slightly perplexed and the bit of a worried look. Slick could relate, in a way, though it was a very long while ago. Basically, when he was a child, everyone thought he was quite the oddball himself and never wanted to play tag with him since he'd end up shoving a kids head into the wood chips at the playground. That, or he'd shove them down the slides and laugh when they'd come up crying for their mother's; Slick could have cried all he wanted for his mother, but she was a bitter bitch, which maybe explained his utter hatred for Sn0wman. She was too much like his mother, temper, sarcasm, and all. Of course, now Slick can't have five minutes alone without one of the Crew members griping at him or attempting to rub the leader the wrong way. At times, he would need some quiet and calm, but even then he'd get tired of the loneliness and go to a bar or dick around with one of his subordinates possessions to get payback for earlier events.

He merely blinked a couple times at the observation that Scdatch didn't give much of a care with what Slick studied or didn't, and have the shorter a small scoff when he mentioned there wasn't anything important in the desk anyway.

"Ya ain't 'fraid I'll dig in there cause ya know if I do, or is it cause ya think I won't do it?" He questioned smugly, automatically ruling the latter out of the equation and guessing his first assumption was spot on.

When led down the hall, he paused at the mouth of the doorway, attempting to adjust to the shadows as he placed his mechanical claws against the wall to avoid running into it. It made the soft sound of sand paper rubbing against a rock, and once the light on Scratch's dresser turned on, he had look away to let his pupils adjust to the new illumination. Once he was sure he wouldn't be blinded, he looked about, taking in the surroundings and hesitantly stepping deeper into the room. To call it nice would be a very vague understatement. He didn't pay the dresser or slightly ajar door much attention, instead seeing the bed and automatically thinking,

'The fuck does he need such a large ass bed for?', before just smirking and setting his hat and blazer aside on the other's dresser, whether he was allowed to or not.

"Lemme guess, not many Felt members come past that office?" He doesn't need an answer, it was more rhetorical then anything else. Once everything was set down, he found himself drawn to the bed and sat down upon the edge with curiosity evident in his actions. The fabric was soft, and unsurprisingly the bed was made. It was comfortable to the point of where it was almost legitimately uncomfortable... Almost. He let his palm slide over the blanket and both brows raised slightly.

"Holy shit." It was soft, and Spades Slick ended up purring lightly without even noticing it at the comfortable furniture and blanket. It was then he glanced up at the other, pausing, and then reaching out to tug him closer with a pleased purr slipping from slightly upward quirked lips.

2014-09-05 00:48:19