“I know it was you, English!” Ms. Paint states bluntly, the cackle of the nearby fireplace elongating the silence between them. English chuckles sardonically, leaning on his cane as if he has all the time in the world.
“You can’t prove anything, girly.” She hates when he calls her that, and he knows it. And it’s the way he says it this time that makes her stomp her small feet in rage, pointing a thin, defiant finger in his direction.
“I don’t need to prove a thing! I know that it was you who murdered Hussie, and had that poor girl locked up, and-” She pauses, biting down on her lip and dramatically turning her head away from him. She takes a sharp breath, turning back to face him with a look of hateful passion smouldering beneath her small, black eyes.
“And you’ve been working with HER.” She drags out the final word, watching as English’s face changes from a mask of calm assuredness to one of shock and horror.
“You can’t possibly think-”
“Don’t try to fool me! I see the way you look at her! How you seem to tremble with hate at the very sight of her!” English ducks his head in shame, choosing his next words carefully.
“Alright, I admit it! At first, I may have had some black feelings towards her-”
“I KNEW IT!”
“-but now any hate I have towards her is completely platonic. I swear!” He adds, noting the look of pure disgust on Ms. Paint’s face. “It has always been you,” he snarls, jabbing his cane in her direction.
Ms. Paint makes a move to object, but something in the way he is looking at her makes her pause.
And she realizes that it’s him- that it has always been him, and it always will be him. Those colourful, near-luminescent billiard eyes of his reflecting her own certainty and purpose back at her. She returns his snarl, striding towards him and knocking his cane out of his hand as she approaches.
Before he has time to react, she tangles a small hand on either side of his overcoat, pulling him down into a fervent kiss. When they part, English chuckles, but it’s a laugh laced with a darkness that runs through the both of them. She takes his hand roughly, and he reluctantly allows himself to be led out of the room.
He knows she will make it up to him, one way or another.
FILL: TEAM [Rose<3Sollux]
“You can’t prove anything, girly.” She hates when he calls her that, and he knows it. And it’s the way he says it this time that makes her stomp her small feet in rage, pointing a thin, defiant finger in his direction.
“I don’t need to prove a thing! I know that it was you who murdered Hussie, and had that poor girl locked up, and-” She pauses, biting down on her lip and dramatically turning her head away from him. She takes a sharp breath, turning back to face him with a look of hateful passion smouldering beneath her small, black eyes.
“And you’ve been working with HER.” She drags out the final word, watching as English’s face changes from a mask of calm assuredness to one of shock and horror.
“You can’t possibly think-”
“Don’t try to fool me! I see the way you look at her! How you seem to tremble with hate at the very sight of her!” English ducks his head in shame, choosing his next words carefully.
“Alright, I admit it! At first, I may have had some black feelings towards her-”
“I KNEW IT!”
“-but now any hate I have towards her is completely platonic. I swear!” He adds, noting the look of pure disgust on Ms. Paint’s face. “It has always been you,” he snarls, jabbing his cane in her direction.
Ms. Paint makes a move to object, but something in the way he is looking at her makes her pause.
And she realizes that it’s him- that it has always been him, and it always will be him. Those colourful, near-luminescent billiard eyes of his reflecting her own certainty and purpose back at her. She returns his snarl, striding towards him and knocking his cane out of his hand as she approaches.
Before he has time to react, she tangles a small hand on either side of his overcoat, pulling him down into a fervent kiss. When they part, English chuckles, but it’s a laugh laced with a darkness that runs through the both of them. She takes his hand roughly, and he reluctantly allows himself to be led out of the room.
He knows she will make it up to him, one way or another.