[Snowpocalypse] Not on My Doorstep (M 2.1)

Rich

Molotov,

Trespass brought you into Roxy's. She was waiting in her office, her place of power, away from prying eyes. The place where you two fucked like wild animals. Yeah, that place. The edge is wearing off the drugs, and your head is clearing.

Roxy politely asks you to have a seat and dismisses Trespass. Its just the two of you. Until the very moment that Trespass leaves, she seems serene and calm, almost amused that you've come to visit her.

Roxy is dressed like this:


As soon as Trespass closes the door, Roxy's demeanor changes. The smile slips and she falls into a more businesslike posture. "Molly... what happened with Eggplant?"

What do you do?

Kaillan

From Molotov:

I'm slumping in the seat like, what a weary day with world on my shoulders. I take out the cigarette case Roxy got for me last time, and I'm noticing bullet dent in it - which is new. Huh. Is not that exciting though, I plug lips with a cigarette and offer one to Roxy. She either takes, or not. I light up one or two depending.

"Is just minor dispute between men," I let Roxy know with a shrug, making it out to be like, not that big of a deal, is not for you to understand. "He said one thing, I disagreed. He said another thing, which is making choice. And choice was to get shot."

I guess I'm not looking at Roxy because... well, maybe I am embarrassed, who knows.

Rich

To Molotov:

"A minor dispute?" She repeats the words, lightly, questioning without mocking. "Molly... what did he say?"

You feel like a little bug in a web, Molotov. She's going to pry it out of you, you know this, right? She's not going to let you evade this.

What do you do?

Kaillan

From Molotov:

Da, I am knowing this; for me to be okay with Roxy, she would have to be this woman. So I sigh out whatever smoke is in my mouth and finally lift my eyes, while rolling the cigarette between my fingers like toying with bullet.

"He said - you know, in silly little voice - that, you were fucking wild, or something like that, and you made his yaytsa ache." I grip my crotch with my other hand, rolling my eyes to show how little I care to be having this conversation right now. "Disrespectful, " I add in a disgusted voice.

Rich

To Molotov:

For a moment, she seems... touched maybe? Like, complimented, that you did this. Just for a flash. That you see her as not that thing she sells. But then, maybe you are just possessive, that's possible. Likely. More likely. You can practically see her mentally bat it away.

"Molly," she says in that polite voice, not talking to a child, talking to someone who she wants to understand, and who she wants to gain understanding from. "I am fucking wild. I was that man's every waking and wet dream. Eggplant was one of my regulars, Molly. He worked his ass off in the Pier hawking goods just so he could run back here and pay me to abuse him."

She stands up, and takes the couple steps over to you, to stand in front of you, over you. You can smell the baby powder she puts on before she slinks into that skin tight outfit. "I made his balls ache, Molly. It's my job. It's how I survive. His boasts were free fucking advertising. Now... he's a giant sign of the danger of coming to Roxy's. These girls and boys, they depend on me to keep them safe, keep them fed. If the johns and janes dry up because they're afraid of getting their asses shot..." She doesn't finish the sentence.

You realize, she's waiting for you to finish it. She wants to hear what you're going to do, if anything.

Kaillan

From Molotov:

It sickens me, but answer is I'd probably do a whole lot. I'm looking at the pictures of Roxy's girls on her desk as she is talking to me. I don't need to hear this, I know, I know. She is working girl. This is her job. I've fucked up, and is my responsibility to be fixing it.

Is that Santa Cruz? No, cannot be, is too young. Maybe, I am being reminded of her by Roxy's tone of voice, which is caring and concerned and treating me like I am man worth respecting. It looks a whole fuck load like Santa Cruz, though.

I look away from it and up to Roxy, who's stopped talking, and I put my hands on her hips. Is a good place for hands, with cigarette bent against red leather, like she is literally smoking hot. "And what are you needing me to do?" As I said, I'd do a whole lot, but what does she want?

Rich

To Molotov:

Roxy doesn't object to your hands on her hips. In fact, she places her hands over yours, then slides them down to your wrists and forearms, all the way to your shoulders. She leans into your shoulders a bit, her hair falling down around the sides of her face. Framing her beauty, inches away from you.

She holds your eyes in hers. "The easiest way is for you to blame one of your men for the deed, execute him, and return a pittance of whatever they filched off him to Eggplant's closest kin as blood debt for the misunderstanding. I can put you in contact with his auntie."

Kaillan

From Molotov:

I stare up at Roxy and seriously consider the offer. But, is too much putting on shoulders of other men. So I tsk and explain a little bit, "Nyet, Roxy, nyet. I am not shooting more bullets after old bullets in this corpse. You put me in touch with auntie, I'll apologize — for my actions, not other man's. She is either being okay with this, or not. And then, what of jingle? We have none. Carnation put his eight at your feet, now what, I starve, my men starve?" It's hard to argue with her so close, but there're parts of me that just don't bend.

As we talk my cigarette's burning down to my fingers.

Rich

To Molotov:

Roxy slides back to stand in front of you again. There's this approving smile, like she is pleased with your choice. Maybe she didn't want you to take the easiest solution and sell out one of your new gang. How do you handle that little thrill that races through you when she does that?

"The auntie is just a show, Molly. Politics. Your apologies won't shut her up." She chews on her bottom lip, thinking about what to do. It looks rather adorable. It could totally be a show.

After a silent moment, she advises, "You offer a public apology to me, and offer to escort future patrons safely through ganglands as penance. I'll kick a few jingle out to Eggplant's auntie to wipe that clean, and when new biz rolls in, I'll start skimming you a barter or two for your services." She smiles, like it's a win-win, and looks to you for your approval.

Kaillan

From Molotov:

I'm not caring if it's a show, seeing as it's my show. I stand up, and we are so close, me and Roxy, that my poncho is brushing her red leather with blood, and my magnum is sticking into her thigh, in its holster, like maybe this is what the thrill does to me.

She might not be able to be reading my face, but I give a nod to show approval, and say, "Is good solution to all our problems. But, now, we celebrate, da?"

Ash falls to the ground as I tap the cigarette, and smoke snakes from my nose. Maybe, this is hiding the smile I cannot help from forming. Like I said, is not important that this is show — is important that I am enjoying it.

Rich

To Molotov:

Roxy smiles a wicked smile, replies in a husky voice with slow, deliberate words, "I would love to celebrate with you, Molly. I have a few matters to resolve. Why don't you head back to Grease Park and let your Sparekeys know about the new deal, then bring back a few for some work tonight. Make sure you come along, and then... I'll steal you away. How does that sound?"

Kaillan

From Molotov:

It sounds like an awful long time from now. My hands are on her tight hips again, and they are tightly squeezing. My cigarette has turned to nothing and the smell of burnt-filter lingers. "You sure, Roxy? Is no problem deciding on more important thing to be doing now... I am more important thing, after all..."

I'm looking at her like, I would kill to have you right now.

Rich

To Molotov:

Roxy's smile fades and she stands up. She doesn't move your hands away, but the tone is clear. Her posture becomes more professional. "Molly, you are important. I have a business to run. You are becoming a vital part of that business, but energetic sex that I don't charge you for is only for fun. I don't have time for fun right now." Her tone seems to indicate that she believes you might not have time for fun, either, but she wouldn't disrespect you by telling you how to run Grease Park and the Sparekeys.

She lightly touches your left hand, the one gripping her hip, "I promise you won't be disappointed if you do what I ask, Molly. I promise." The bright smile returns and she bats her eye lashes at you, reaching back down to run the backs of her nails softly against your cheek.

What do you do?

Kaillan

From Molotov:

I'm grunting and relenting, shifting my hands away for her but making clear it was my idea, "Okay. Like I was saying, is good for both of us. You won't be disappointed either, I am sure."

It's not easy pulling away, when she is having her claws in my cheek, in me, and I linger at door for one last look. I'm thinking I'll keep that look. "I'll be seeing you soon, okay." Is simple promise I return to her.

Rich

To Molotov:

She puts a hand on her hip, in the exact place where you hand just was, and winks, "Counting the minutes, Molly. See you tonight."

Then you're gone. Leaving while you still can, right?

Where do you go? Grab your guys and head back to Grease Park?

Kaillan

From Molotov:

Exactly. I'm heading out into the chill and sun, that dim ball in the sky, and going back to the Grease Park with Sims and Bonk.

Rich

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