duplicity inbox | un: prince

[rosebyanyother]

"Morrigan Prince. I'm afraid I'm too busy to answer at the moment, but leave a message and I promise to respond as soon as I'm able."

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[rosebyanyother]

Ah, let me check my booking schedule.

[A couple of minutes go by, enough to be a bit of a dick. It's all in good fun, right?]

Yes, I seem to.
When should I be expecting company?

[hallowing]

yeah.

but cut the bullshit. i'm not in the mood for it.

（ he knows peter means well and that it's just part of their established dynamic, but he wants to make it clear that he's not in the headspace to navigate it without turning into a raging asshole. more than usual, anyway. ）

[rosebyanyother]

[Hm. Interesting.]

Very well.
I don't have any particular plans today that can't be shifted around. Let me know when you're planning to show up and I'll be here to let you in.

[hallowing]

half hour.

[rosebyanyother]

I'll see you then.

[...And he'll tidy up a bit in the meantime.]

[hallowing]

（ he doesn't actually

knock.

or try the door.

nope.

not this asshole.

he just straight up teleports into the living room. he's got his battered old guitar slung over one shoulder, neck pointed towards the ground, and a bottle of some indescribably strong liquor in one hand — the bottle is artfully shaped like a tentacle dick, because that's just the city theme or something. he extricates himself out of the guitar's strap, sets it down beside the couch and drops into the cushions with a whump. ）

If I ask real nice will you get me a glass with some ice in it?

[rosebyanyother]

[...Rude, Cy.

Peter is actually in the middle of ferrying a few pieces of clothing back out of his living room and into his bedroom when suddenly there is a person in his space. Cy will get to see Peter startle if he's paying attention, hand flashing towards a pocket - he almost drops a shirt to do so - before he recognizes exactly what is going on here.

He breathes out, refolds the shirt back over his arm and...considers scolding Cy but ultimately decides not to. That warning about 'bullshit' keeps his expression relatively pleasant.]

Of course. It's what any good host would do, after all. Just give me a minute.

[...Cy hasn't actually asked real nice but Peter isn't going to make him. He makes his way to his bedroom to deposit those clothes on his bed and then goes to the kitchen to perform the asked-for task.

Coming back into the living room, he deposits the glass of ice in front of Cy and then takes a seat in a chair near the couch.]

Should I ask why you're seeking refuge in my living room or should I just let you drink?

[hallowing]

（ he catches it. the flinch, the twitch, the quick recalibration. he's fucked up, but he's not that fucked up. he's not sure he ever could be — he's too good at surviving to miss even the most minute of clues.

but ultimately, it gets ignored. he picks up the glass of ice, dumps the brandy in over it and lifts it in a universal little gesture of 'cheers'. ）

Someone left. （ not even remotely true. he's actually been damn lucky in that regard — not only has no one he cared for especially deeply left, but anna actually came back. so. no. not the truth. ） Frankly, I just needed to get away for awhile.

[rosebyanyother]

[Absolute lie though it may be, it still gets an actual reaction from Peter, a look of recognition and sympathy passing over his face before he nods.

He doesn't do particularly well with people leaving him behind either.]

Well. That's certainly understandable. You're welcome to stay as long as you like. Especially if you use that little trick to keep my neighbors out of my business and both of us out of trouble.

[You know. Being a dominant and submissive who are both contracted to other people. Not having Cy coming and going from his door would be a nice little thing, considering.]

You can make yourself at home...I don't really have much in the way of groceries, to be honest, though. I don't really cook.