[ Hummel has indeed made the critical error of passing Darius in his approach toward god-knows-who. He makes as well the error of meeting Darius’s eyes, which is when Darius - half-smile sharp, sharkish - raises his hands and claps slowly, once, twice.
It has the double effect of stopping the shit cold, and silencing Fitzgerald mid-sentence. Which leaves an opening for Darius to offer a superficial introduction - “Hummel, Fitzgerald; Fitzgerald, Hummel, and do take care, Theodore; that one positively thrives on ovations” - then slip away.
He doesn’t get far, granted. There are too many people here and just now, Jack Ramsey and his wife have decided to ‘congratulate’ Darius on his ‘upcoming nuptials,’ suggesting Esma has said so much about his fiancé, what an interesting young - very young! - man he seems to be! Darius is on the cusp of suggesting that Ramsey and his wife go stick a thumb up the rectum of Ramsey’s probably-scowling and certainly not-so-young beau, when there’s a minor uproar from the front entry, indicating that Verne, the ‘twins’, and the perennial birthday boy have arrived.
It’s another chance to slip away, and Darius takes it after suggesting that the Ramseys ask whether Esma happened to mention that his fiancé is her nephew, or that she’d attempted to take money from the mouths of literal babes.
He manages to slip beside a plant and out of the way of any further interference, where he can text Enri once more. ]
No visible orgasming from Hummel, though I’ll call his arrival fortuitous; I’ve pawned he and Fitzgerald off on one another.
And it sounds as though the first part of our cavalry has arrived. Not the faces I’d hoped to see, but they’ll do for a distraction.
…Gods, where is Esma? I’d spill blood to see her face when they barrel in.
Where are you, Puppy, Puppy, my Puppy? This damned crowd persists in barring my vision, and I would very much like to cling to my husband. I’m all right, Dearest; only needled by the actualization of Esma’s pettiness, and irked by myself for being needled. It’ll all smooth itself out as the evening carries on, and as I wrap my arms around you.
Pity Circus Act steered off. If he persists in avoiding you, I’m sure we can send someone his way. Sen and Rin lack your look of earnest innocence, but they’ve that knack for posing mmm ‘whimsical’ questions with the most unruffled expressions.
Mm, and if they take on Barnum & Bailey, we can look on together. A nice bit of amusement for you and I. 😌
Regarding Esma, I suspect the answer to your question runs along the lines of ‘the same person who throws a fit when her less-favored sister marries first among the Boyles, then brings children to the world.’ One might think the pool cue incident would have discouraged her from being an outright shit. One would, clearly, be very much mistaken.
[ … ]
I suspect this little gathering of hers is intended as an affront to you, just as much as to myself. And I’d strangle her right now, were it not that we’ve a takeover in motion already, soon to be more drawn-own, and thus more satisfying.
Well. And what better revenge than to revel in one another, and stir trouble in her schemes?
Mm. And, as a treat, to share our private conversation on her most expensive sheets. 😌
no subject
Let’s see, shall we?
[ Hummel has indeed made the critical error of passing Darius in his approach toward god-knows-who. He makes as well the error of meeting Darius’s eyes, which is when Darius - half-smile sharp, sharkish - raises his hands and claps slowly, once, twice.
It has the double effect of stopping the shit cold, and silencing Fitzgerald mid-sentence. Which leaves an opening for Darius to offer a superficial introduction - “Hummel, Fitzgerald; Fitzgerald, Hummel, and do take care, Theodore; that one positively thrives on ovations” - then slip away.
He doesn’t get far, granted. There are too many people here and just now, Jack Ramsey and his wife have decided to ‘congratulate’ Darius on his ‘upcoming nuptials,’ suggesting Esma has said so much about his fiancé, what an interesting young - very young! - man he seems to be! Darius is on the cusp of suggesting that Ramsey and his wife go stick a thumb up the rectum of Ramsey’s probably-scowling and certainly not-so-young beau, when there’s a minor uproar from the front entry, indicating that Verne, the ‘twins’, and the perennial birthday boy have arrived.
It’s another chance to slip away, and Darius takes it after suggesting that the Ramseys ask whether Esma happened to mention that his fiancé is her nephew, or that she’d attempted to take money from the mouths of literal babes.
He manages to slip beside a plant and out of the way of any further interference, where he can text Enri once more. ]
No visible orgasming from Hummel, though I’ll call his arrival fortuitous; I’ve pawned he and Fitzgerald off on one another.
And it sounds as though the first part of our cavalry has arrived. Not the faces I’d hoped to see, but they’ll do for a distraction.
…Gods, where is Esma? I’d spill blood to see her face when they barrel in.
Where are you, Puppy, Puppy, my Puppy? This damned crowd persists in barring my vision, and I would very much like to cling to my husband. I’m all right, Dearest; only needled by the actualization of Esma’s pettiness, and irked by myself for being needled. It’ll all smooth itself out as the evening carries on, and as I wrap my arms around you.
Pity Circus Act steered off. If he persists in avoiding you, I’m sure we can send someone his way. Sen and Rin lack your look of earnest innocence, but they’ve that knack for posing mmm ‘whimsical’ questions with the most unruffled expressions.
Mm, and if they take on Barnum & Bailey, we can look on together. A nice bit of amusement for you and I. 😌
Regarding Esma, I suspect the answer to your question runs along the lines of ‘the same person who throws a fit when her less-favored sister marries first among the Boyles, then brings children to the world.’ One might think the pool cue incident would have discouraged her from being an outright shit. One would, clearly, be very much mistaken.
[ … ]
I suspect this little gathering of hers is intended as an affront to you, just as much as to myself. And I’d strangle her right now, were it not that we’ve a takeover in motion already, soon to be more drawn-own, and thus more satisfying.
Well. And what better revenge than to revel in one another, and stir trouble in her schemes?
Mm. And, as a treat, to share our private conversation on her most expensive sheets. 😌