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[R] dirty bean water for classless hoes {Alkmene x Faustite}

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Garbage Cat

PostPosted: Sun Dec 05, 2021 6:59 pm


The first time Eion visited a coffee shop was three days ago. This particular shop was more focused on selling coffee grounds and whole beans as opposed to brewing them for customers, though they made accommodations for that in a small, kitschy space on the second floor of the converted loft. Glass enclosure for the lot of it, with frosted glass patterning of cutting headlines obfuscating the visitors. Eion had been in specifically to buy whole beans, which he assumed were better than grounds, then discovered that coffee had about as many roasts as teas had flavors.

Or maybe just a little less. He returned to Negaspace empty-handed, bullied a cat into surfing the internet for him (finally Haymitch proved useful), then returned three days later to make his purchase. He returned to Negaspace, this time, with a french press, a grinder, and Nicaraguan whole beans of medium roast from Lifeboost.

He read the instructions a few times over, brewed the first pot with his sister (where upon he spit his out), she laughed about it, and subsequent pots were made for Albite to critique. Once he ascertained a working method to brewing with himself as the stove and the french press as the… Teapot, he supposed, it was time to test his success with the one who preferred coffee over tea.

He wrote, rewrote, deleted, and reopened the text to Haru about six times before he settled on something functional: COME TO MY OFFICE.

Then he decided that was too foreboding, so he added PLEASE.

But that didn't read like himself, so he wrote WANT TO SEE YOU IN MY OFFICE.

But that, again, read like there was a problem. Frowning, Faustite-in-a-human-skin pressed call and waited a few rings. Both hands balled into fists, he rested his chin atop the pair and spoke aloud to the phone on his desk. "Hey. Gonna summon you."


noir songbird
References made with permission!
PostPosted: Mon Dec 06, 2021 9:57 pm


Remaking a life from the shattered remains of what he'd had left before had been an interesting proposition, especially considering that he almost entirely remembered Malachi, not Alkmene.

But the fun part of all of that was that his sister firmly believed that he was pretty enough for the online influencer circle, and at the very least, he could make a person out of himself there. Malachi had been a youtuber, sure, but he'd hidden behind his violin; Haruhiko had a whole new world opened to him, especially given that there was now no one to tell him that he couldn't do what he wanted with his appearance and Hina was making enough money these days that she could take him out shopping.

When his phone rang, he was fiddling with the perfect angle for a #OOTD selfie, and he blinked at the contact before hitting "accept" and putting it on speaker.

Faustite's--Eion's, properly--voice through the phone made him smile, as he set it down on the vanity next to him. Ever since the events on the hill, ever since he'd seen Faustite blown apart and restored, he'd discovered a certain...fondness. For his General. Affection, even, one might say, not that Haru was going to attach petty sentiments to the concept.

Still. It was good to hear from him.

"Thanks for the heads up," he said. "I'd ask if I should put on something nice, but let's be honest, my fuku is 'something nice.'"


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Noir Songbird
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Garbage Cat

PostPosted: Sat Dec 11, 2021 4:54 pm


He wasn't sure what that was supposed to mean — put on something nice — though he guessed that was because he wore the same uniform every day of his life, he recognized others by their uniforms, and he thought very little about what clothing could stand for, what it could mean. Still, the comment gave him pause as he waited for the phrase to whistle over his head, then he hung up the phone. Without saying goodbye.

'Eion' deteriorated as fast as he was called over Faustite's skin, and the General called Alkmene to his office with equal speed. He folded his hands over his desk afterward, expectant that Alkmene will notice the differences.

Not that the differences were difficult to spot — only the french press sat on his desk, but it was full, and far more aromatic than most of the teas that Faustite liked to brew. It was the unbroken thing in the office, for even after replacing the glass top to his desk, it was still bent and broken in places.

Faustite may not have been smiling, but he looked quite pleased with himself.

"Sit," he urged, and gestured to the less battered and charred of the two metal chairs. "Got something to ask you."
PostPosted: Wed Dec 22, 2021 11:22 pm


The call ended unceremoniously, which Haruhiko couldn't exactly pretend to be surprised by. Still, he let out a slightly exasperated huff, and waited--though there wasn't long to wait. There was a tug, and then Haruhiko was Alkmene, and standing in front of Faustite's desk. He swept a flirty little curtsy, with a wink attached, but as he did, the scent of warm, aromatic coffee hit him, and he blinked. There was no not recognizing a decent French press, either, and as far as Alkmene knew, there was no method of tea preparation that used one.

He looked up at Faustite, and the surprise was genuine and obvious on his face.

"Sir?" He said, and he dropped in the chair, a little less gracefully than he would have ordinarily liked. "I uh, had no idea you drank coffee."


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Noir Songbird
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Garbage Cat

PostPosted: Thu Dec 30, 2021 3:21 pm


They exchanged surprises like gifts.

Faustite was taken aback by Alkmene's cheeky little entrance, though he didn't know why — they'd spent enough time around each other for Faustite to learn that Alkmene quite liked showing off in such a way. But to do so, here, in his office, felt slightly more personal than Alkmene just being himself.

In return for the wide-eyed, clueless stare he gifted to Alkmene, he received a similar look from the boy. Faustite wore his self-satisfaction well.

"I don't," he declared easily. "It's for you." By now, Alkmene would know where Faustite kept cups, creamer and sweeteners. He didn't require the invitation.

Faustite sat as well, then crossed his legs under the desk. He leaned forward on his elbows, and he framed his jaw with the heels of his hands. "Remember when you first came into my office? Jaunty, flirty thing with all the right words loaded into the chamber." He watched Alkmene as he spoke. There were no notes to take here, which left his hands idly pacing nowhere patterns against the shells of his ears.


noir songbird
PostPosted: Fri Jan 07, 2022 4:29 pm


'It's for you.'

It was such a small thing, a French press full of coffee. And yet it made Alkmene smile, genuinely, as he stood up to retrieve the accoutrements for hot beverage drinking.

"Well, then thank you," he said, and he set an extra cup on Faustite's desk--"in case you want to try some," he elaborated. They were the same CTRL and ALT cups Faustite had brought out during their first meeting; it was sort of nostalgic, now, looking at them as he poured himself a cup and added only the lightest bit of cream and a little honey. Not usual coffee sweetener, perhaps, but Alkmene found it was just as nice for what he wanted.

He took a sip, and nodded in response to Faustite's question.

"This is wonderful," he praised, "and of course I remember. All the flirtation still stands, by the way. Moreso, even. I liked your pretty face, then. I like you, now."


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Noir Songbird
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Garbage Cat

PostPosted: Mon Jan 10, 2022 7:34 pm


The word compliment concerning his face dashed some of his saucy enthusiasm, though Faustite said nothing of it. Soon after, his composure shifted as though Alkmene never said such a thing.

He watched Alkmene take up a cup, but did not move for one himself; if he remembered manners after his years in the Rift, he had forgotten this one. He'd decided long ago that coffee was a liar drink, never tasted how it smelled, and it sucked for how it stained his mouth with its shitty taste for the rest of the day. But, he supposed, that didn't preclude him liking the taste of it when it came from someone else's mouth.

He supposed, too, that he could suck the coffee out of Alkmene's mouth if he was that interested in trying it. It'd stop the boy from telling him he had a pretty face again. But, that wasn't something people were supposed to do.

And Kamacite was always reminding him that he was a person, too. He guessed that those were gentle reminders to stop acting like a feral, gas-fueled fireball that burst out of the Rift.

"Don't know how to flirt, so I'll get to the point: I've time on my hands right now, and I can be human for three hours. Think we better visit your place if you're in the mood. If you're not, I can make a persuasive argument."


noir songbird
love the attention to detail heart
PostPosted: Mon Jan 10, 2022 9:21 pm


There was pleasure in enjoying a warm cup of coffee anyway, but a special pleasure when it was a gift, thoughtfully selected and prepared. So he was enjoying the drink, and wondering at a potential alternate purpose of the summons, when Faustite made his offer.

He raised his eyebrows, and took another sip, and as he lowered the cup, his expression was a broad grin.

"That's the most artless proposition I've ever heard from a sober person. Yes, by the way, I'd love to." A brief pause. "As long as you don't mind me finishing this first. I'd hate for your efforts making it to go to waste."


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Noir Songbird
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Garbage Cat

PostPosted: Tue Jan 11, 2022 3:00 am


"That would hurt me if I hadn't spent two years in the Rift." Faustite rested his chin on a palm while he considered Alkmene and his drinking etiquette. People carried themselves so different from each other; was one way really worse than the next? Could the same be said for propositioning someone?

He said yes anyway, so did it matter? He would've died at their last battle without Taenite's help, so even if it did matter, he considered himself exempt this one time.

While Alkmene drank, Faustite licked his fingers and pulled a fresh page from the drawer. He got it to the table where it sported the same fingerprint-shaped, blackened mark in the corner that all of his other sheets had, something like a signature, and grabbed a metal nib pen. He wrote a succinct message:

BUSY. COME BACK LATER.

He turned the sheet with the butt of his pen and faced it toward the door. Maybe someday, he'd acquire an 'out of office' sign, but today was not that day. Today, he was going to spend a few hours in his human skin being completely unproductive with another boy, and then he'd spend whatever minutes he had left being as lazy as possible.


noir songbird
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