vphantomhive:
He’d drown all trace of laughter behind the cup he was helding, inside the tea he was drinking, along the terrible thoughts he was having. It seemed that he couldn’t control himself if the red lady was around; as if she were constantly insisting -in silence and hints- for him to let go and become the monster he was hiding under a polite façade. Of course, that couldn’t ever happen.
“It would be quite troublesome, indeed, if certain ears decided to word what they thought they saw. So to speak, of course. But then again, it’d take more than just little rumors to make me tremble.”
There it was, that particular tone he’d use to try to seduce whoever was listening. Poor Ann, getting targeted again. However, that was the good thing about her -among many others he wouldn’t trouble himself with listing now-: she could take good care of herself and deal with Vincent’s antics.
He wasn’t normal– the man had said so himself. Perhaps that is what always attracted her, even after all these years. It was as if the monster behind those half truths, and carefully carved mask was whispering to her. It drew something out of her, something that coiled in the depths of her eyes and flashed through her own pleasant smiles. As if two creatures lurking within the hidden confinements of mortal flesh were exchanging their own greetings silently.
Just waiting for their owners to realize.
"Does it now?“ The woman ventured, that mirth glinting like fire in the core of her eyes. As if a challenge had been erected before her.
Poor Ann? Oh. Not quite.
She was enjoying this far too much.
Their little games– some days she lived for them.
”I didn’t think you one to underestimate the strength of words,“ A pause, ”Vincent.“ The way his name is spun along her tongue– its like rich silk. A tone that would bring stronger men to their knees before her. Women have begotten wars with voices like that.
