goddamngrenades | RP Open Post

"Oh good. I like her." She is creepy in a stepford smiley kind of way, but she explains everything. Even if he doesn't UNDERSTAND the words she's using, she explains and he appreciates that. Doesn't say a damn thing about how his eye doesn't focus properly either, so that's good.

He has to get dressed to head upstairs and Delta sends his bag up to

to.

"...holyshit is this a bad sitcom or what." At least the bed isn't shaped like a heart- but there IS a champagne bottle- or a basket of them. And condoms. And packets of lube that probably comes with the room. "...if there's chocolate somewhere I'm eating it and I don't even care."

Somehow, what should be a ringing endorsement isn't. But that will be something to worry about in the morning.

Tonight, there is this ridiculous room with its giant water bed, far too large windows overlooking the city, a bath tub very clearly made fir two, and several nooks and crannies and hook points that don't necessarily scream honeymoon to Carolina. Or perhaps her idea of first married night affairs is too vanilla? Either way, "Don't touch anything," she orders, before she begins her sweep of each room. She doesn't want to risk /anything/ by not being thorough at her job.

"...but who would poison chocolate?" It is now a concern he didn't know he needed to have until now- and as much fun as the bed looks he hovers by the door, waiting patiently for Carolina to do her job. The hooks look kind of fun. He might monkey around on them later- he didn't have his doorframe bar for pullups in this tour van.

The glass door between the bedroom and the bathroom though- good thing he showered on the bus.

Soon as the all clear is given he looks and does, in fact, find chocolates.

Shaped like genitals.

"Oh christ what the fuck."

"It's not the chocolate I'm worried about."

Her voice carries clearly enough, meaning any intruder would be easily detected - they wouldn't be able to stage a kidnapping without someone hearing something either way. It doesn't take her long to finish checking that things are in fact exactly as they seem, and it's an arched brow at York when she hears his exclamation.

Then looks down at the offerings, carefully arranged on black paper. Then back up at York.

"I thought you didn't care?" Then, an idea occurs to her. ..she shouldn't, not when he's technically her client, but he could use a distraction from the worst of the day's events now the high is wearing off. She shrugs at him, seemingly unconcerned, And, as if to underscore such an attitude, she picks up one piece from the selection - a rather upstanding example of erectness - and, far too casually, places its length in her mouth, lightly closing her lips around it.

"I don't care, I just don't know which one to start wi-" He doesn't cut himself off so much as snap his mouth shut, watching her enjoy one of the chocolates. They aren't quite life sized, thank god, but it's enough of a visual to make him go red and his mouth to dry out and-

Delta will kill him. Delta will murder him and no one will ever find the body. Delta will GLEEFULLY peel the skin from his bones.

Nope that reminder doesn't do anything as a low, inarticulate noise that might be a whimper spills past his lips. Right. Turnabout, fair play? Yes. Yes good. He plucks up a flat, feminine form and runs his tongue over the surface, playing a little with the molded folds. Because he's that kind of an ass.

His whimper earns the faintest hint of a smirk, only visible in the way her eyes crinkle slightly, before she watches him pick out his own piece to, err, play with. He's definitely an ass, but one who knows what he's doing with his tongue - but he's not the only one. She draws the chocolate out slowly, the balls balanced between index finger and thumb, before she sucks it back in again. It's good chocolate, her mind mentally notes.

Then there's a knock on the door. Delta.

She pops cock and balls into her mouth fully, smiles at York, then turns away with a slight sashay of her hips to go let his manager in.

Mm mm, salted caramel. Her favourite.

Edited (Typo) 2015-08-21 04:02 (UTC)

You win this time, Carolina. He's so busy watching he can't quite focus on fluttering his tongue like he meant to, instead just. Staring. It's not fair. Delta will MURDER him and-

...it might be worth it wait what NO brain bad brain LEARN FROM YOUR MISTAKES BRAIN. York pops his into his mouth as he watches her walk to the door and- damn those legs. Damn those hips. Stupid martial artists and their awesome bodies. He's fucked, just. Not how he wants to be. He manages to at least compose himself by the time D walks in and slap on an innocent smile. "Hey buddy!"

'Hey buddy!' earns an arched eyebrow, and a sidelong glance to Carolina when she strides back the way she came, heading into the lounge area to let the boys discuss business. It's an almost amused, if resigned look that follows when he turns back to York. He knows your type, and also knows how much trouble attempting to chase that tail isn't going to work.

Sitting herself down onto the couch with a sigh, Carolina ignores the conversation that will no doubt start soon - it's not going to be her business anymore, come morning - and instead checks on any updates on her phone. There's a security guard outside and one in the foyer; she'll at least be able to get a nap in.

It's just the usual. The take, how he performed, what they're gonna do next. A lot of planning and a lot of- well. Discussion on why the FUCK hadn't he been informed? D knows about his blood pressure this extra stress couldn't have been good for him and yes that is the only reason he's pissed. It calms down after, and they hug it out. Well. York hugs, Delta endures.

Soon he sends him to his own room and he settles back in the sitting area. "You gonna camp out on the sofa for tonight?"

"Yeah. Makes sense. I don't think we will be receiving any unexpected visitors but better safe than sorry."

"Sounds fair." A beat. "Any opinions on dinner? We're gonna order in."

"If it's spicy, I'll probably eat it. Nothing too heavy beer-wise, though." Because she sincerely doubts anyone will be having a soda. Even Delta will likely indulge.

"THai or Korean BBQ- also you want a nice IPA or Wheat beer?" Yes, he is this detailed, yes he wants his people to eat well and be happy.

A shrug. "IPA is fine, unless the bar has a better recommendation." Korean BBQ is always better eaten at the restaurant, so "Thai. Absolutely fine."

"Got it. Veggie or protein heavy? This late D tends to avoid meat." He's already dialing up, D's usual and the rest of his crew's memorized by now.

Protein. She really really wants protein. But Delta's logic is sounds much of the time, and it is late. "Veg works for tonight." A beat. "And you?"

"Deep fried awfulness. I have had a shock." He waves a hand. "I think I've earned some comfort food. Also it's kind of a tradition. Damn shame this place doesn't do cheesecake too."

A few more buttons and he's got the restaurant on dial, he likes to call it in himself.

She'd make a crack about keeping his figure, but he has a point about shock. "There will always be time for cake later," she murmurs in a conciliatory manner, though she waits until he's off the phone to ask: "So what's this tradition?"

"Last show of a tour and we all split the most ridiculous cheesecake we can find in the area. I think the current winner is a tutti frutti Pointe & shootie, which was like a funfetti cheesecake with pointe lace decoration in like, some tulle fruite lace? and shots of amaretto like. Waiting in the cookie crust." It was insane. And delicious.

"Huh." Sounds delicious. "Well, you'll have time tomorrow to look into that." Depending on his cut of proceedings, he'll likely have enough to distribute to his crew. "You'll likely have press to deal with, as well."

"...aw hell I forgot about THAT. I hate press conferences. Too many flashing lights and loud questions but I'm not allowed to get cranky." He sighs and slumps back against the sofa, muttering. "I'll be a pop star I said. It'll be FUN I said."

"Just let Delta handle it, and keep your mouth shut at about things that don't need to be raised. He'll write any formal press release regarding what happened, and you can always embelish it on your website or something." ...He does have a website, right?

"...shit I haven't tweeted in over six hours." He fumbles with his phone for awhile before finding the camera function, raises it up with a peace sign and takes a quick selfie. Posting it and thanking his fanclub and all that takes less than thirty seconds but god.

"okay. They know I'm not dead. Woo."

Carolina makes sure to stay well out of selfie range, marveling at how fast he is to slam out those updates to his fans. The downtime might have worried them, but his reply might also aggravate the person that targetted him -- but he, currently, is in police custody.

"Good to know," she says dryly once he's done his duty. "How many retweets do you average?"

"I don't get those notifications because when I do I don't SLEEP. Phone pings for hours, man." He sets it down and rubs at his bad eye. "Uh. I wanna say couple thousand? maybe more?"

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