𝘈 𝐖𝐎𝐋𝐅 𝘈𝘛 𝘠𝘖𝘜𝘙 𝘋𝘖𝘖𝘙 ─

the moral of the story is i will gut you if i need to. i will carve my way out with only my teeth.

… Fine. 𝘖𝘯𝘦 𝘰𝘧 the only judgments. [She’s making herself rather comfortable – stretching her legs out across his lap, crossing one arm over her chest while she holds her wine in the other hand.] I like to think I’ve gotten better over the years.

[Appreciative eyes follow him, until she remembers she's supposed to be doing something. ... Right. Two glasses of wine poured, smoothly and evenly. And then she's joining him on the couch, handing off one glass as she sits.] And I do. That's why your assessment of any given —

[Her smirk slowly widens. Even better answer.] Bossy today, aren’t we? [But oh, look, she’s doing as she’s told and uncorking the wine – funny how that happens.]

[Small smirk. Good answer.] Keep speaking like that to me, darling, and I fear we’re never even going to touch that bottle.

Perhaps my company could make up for the rest, hm?

A bit more appealing of a payoff than a bag of treats, I should hope.

Mhmm, just as I thought. That trick works every time.

Let's see... Will uncorking a fresh bottle of wine summon one of my lovers, or am I drinking alone again?

Under any other circumstance, I’d agree with you, darling, but… You did 𝘴𝘦𝘦 my mask, didn’t you? Hardly the kind to be reworn to any other occasion with the…you know…bloody handprints, and such.

What does one even 𝘥𝘰 with a mask after a masquerade? Sell it? Store it? Hang it above the fire?