[ A truth, albeit one she doesn’t always know how to weaponise. He’ll find the wider club empty, obviously, but for the jukebox (rigged up the same as in the Lanes by Jinx herself), alight and playing an old song.
When Silco was a host, he tried on her fantasies for size — half-formed and incoherent though they were. She doesn’t know his just yet, and she figures asking is out of the question, for someone instinctively secretive, so doing is their only option. He’s been favouring pretty girls lately, like Ani, so she can’t help but wonder if that’s a starting point.
With her hair tied back (three smaller braids folded into one that trails down her back), Jinx dresses herself not out of insecurity, then, but curiosity: A black slip of a dress in place of her usual belts and buckles and patterns. She veers towards the masculine in her style, she knows, having modelled herself after Vi and then, well, him, looking as much like his daughter as she does Felicia’s. This isn’t a permanent change, it’s just — a gift, emphasised by the bow-like collar, affixed to her throat.
(In her mind, he gave her the handcuffs in part because of what she confessed to sharing with Nami, so why not let him have what she tried on Lottie, too? She was his first, so it’s only fair.)
Perched atop his desk like she owns the place — doesn’t she? — her crossed legs seem endless, bare apart from her usual boots. She tried on little heels and strappy things, but they felt wrong, in a way the rest didn’t.
Speaking of— ]
I didn’t get glasses! [ called out when she hears the far door click shut, heightened senses attuned to his footsteps. ] Board’s above all at, no matter how handsome the boss is.
[ ‘Cause she wants to hear that, too, to listen for him fumbling the glasses or pausing to try and catch a glimpse of her through his shuttered window. For much the same reason, she pops the champagne, laughing when it fizzes onto her hand. ]
no subject
[ A truth, albeit one she doesn’t always know how to weaponise. He’ll find the wider club empty, obviously, but for the jukebox (rigged up the same as in the Lanes by Jinx herself), alight and playing an old song.
When Silco was a host, he tried on her fantasies for size — half-formed and incoherent though they were. She doesn’t know his just yet, and she figures asking is out of the question, for someone instinctively secretive, so doing is their only option. He’s been favouring pretty girls lately, like Ani, so she can’t help but wonder if that’s a starting point.
With her hair tied back (three smaller braids folded into one that trails down her back), Jinx dresses herself not out of insecurity, then, but curiosity: A black slip of a dress in place of her usual belts and buckles and patterns. She veers towards the masculine in her style, she knows, having modelled herself after Vi and then, well, him, looking as much like his daughter as she does Felicia’s. This isn’t a permanent change, it’s just — a gift, emphasised by the bow-like collar, affixed to her throat.
(In her mind, he gave her the handcuffs in part because of what she confessed to sharing with Nami, so why not let him have what she tried on Lottie, too? She was his first, so it’s only fair.)
Perched atop his desk like she owns the place — doesn’t she? — her crossed legs seem endless, bare apart from her usual boots. She tried on little heels and strappy things, but they felt wrong, in a way the rest didn’t.
Speaking of— ]
I didn’t get glasses! [ called out when she hears the far door click shut, heightened senses attuned to his footsteps. ] Board’s above all at, no matter how handsome the boss is.
[ ‘Cause she wants to hear that, too, to listen for him fumbling the glasses or pausing to try and catch a glimpse of her through his shuttered window. For much the same reason, she pops the champagne, laughing when it fizzes onto her hand. ]