LAMBERT, LAMBERT, WHAT A PRICK.

"ah." she won't say that he's scared, because that's a bomb she doesn't want to light the fuse of, thanks. "alright. so you feel like it's not worth what could potentially happen. that's... understandable."

"which is what? living despite whatever the fuck they tried to make of you?" she lets out a sigh, "you are maybe the most spiteful person i know, Lambert, but that just disappears when it comes to your happiness."

sniffs, much like they do sometimes, around his collar. "sure, and i'm Queen Meve. listen, i will push on this because no one else will, Lambert, but you've stuck yourself in a miserable little box and you don't deserve that. and," holding up a finger, "i don't care for your --

"honestly, given any of your track records, i don't think whatever you think you need is realistic," she says bluntly. pats his shoulder, light and warm. "i'm rather more interested in what you want."

"i can always discuss anything, if it weighs on your mind," she nods sagely. "all i hear right now is that you don't have a lover and you're a little jealous. it's okay, you know. you can always get someone."

"you should be. they deserve being shown off." g r i n s. "who are you hiding, Bertie?"

"just because you currently have blue balls—"

oh, it's lovers' day!!

⠀ ⠀⠀queue some panicked high pitched screams. ⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀reading from her little spell book. ⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀✰⠀❛⠀Did you blew up something? ❜

"Ah, that's no way to treat a brother." He is approaching the other, footfalls sinking into the silt beneath his boots, arms spread out wide as he spits grit from his mouth. "It's been so long. . ."

........... Lambert should run