pastisproof:
“Guess you could say that. Just finished my first day at my new job. Pretty great shit.”
"New job, huh? What would that be? -- If it's alright for me to be curious, I mean."
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pastisproof:
“You sure catch on quick, don’t you? But no worries. I am fully aware that I look like shit.”
"Oh. Well, sorry for my forwardness all the same. -- Had a rough day, then?"
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pastisproof replied to your post:
"… if this is you flirting, I’ve gotta break it to you—"
"Clever. -- But, no; this was just me sharing my likely unwanted opinion."
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"You look worse for wear... --"
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here it goes again // ok go
just when you think that you’re in control
just when you think that you’ve got a hold
just when you get on a roll
here it goes, here it goes, here it goes again
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lucychatterly:
“Ohhhh,” she laughs herself. "That makes more sense. Y’ain’t gon’ eat that last slice then?" She’s already eyeing it up.
"Go for it." Aaand... --
-- there goes another glass of wine. He's pretty sure that's not how he's supposed to drink it, but he's too far gone to care.
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lucychatterly:
“Y’ate too much Jesus?”
Someone misheard that.
He tells himself not to laugh-- which eventually results in a somewhat ugly chortle. "Nooo. I ate too much pizza. Jesus. It was j-just an exclamation."
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lucychatterly:
“Fine with me,” she smiles, grabbing a couple of glasses from the cupboard and heading back through to the living room.
About an hour-an hour and a half later, the two are seated on the couch-- and Sky feels as though his stomach is about to burst. The bottle is also empty-- though that might just be Sky's fault, mainly.
"Luce... -- I ate too much. Jesus."
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THE SHITTIEST BIO I EVER DID WRITE
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lucychatterly:
“Pretty perfect,” she nods. “Y’wanna pick a bottle? I’ll get some glasses. Uh, not the ‘98 on the left though.”
"Sure." So he pivots on his heels, opens the door to the according cabinet, and pulls out a bottle after having read some of the labels. -- He's not all that picky. "How's this one?"
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detomalley:
salvatorpauci replied to your post
"— What?"
“I—”
Nope. Nope. Don’t say it.
"Really need some coffee."
"Is that really all?
-- Not that making you some coffee is going to be a problem, but-- yeah."
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lucychatterly:
“If y’insist,” she smiles, inputting the number into her phone and placing the order. “Should be ‘bout a half hour.”
"Okay," he gives with a wide smile. "I hate to be sounding like a guy dependent on alcohol-- because I'm not-- but how does wine sound to you right now?"
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lucychatterly:
“I love pineapple,” she assures him, moving across the room to grab the phone before joining him again. “One load ‘a fries or two?”
There's a silence, seemingly contemplative, but the decision is quickly made. "Two. -- My treat, alright?"
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lucychatterly:
“Yeah, that’s the one,” she answers. “I ain’t picky so whatever y’feel like.”
"How do you feel about pizza Hawaii? -- I ordered one of those a while back after a coworker told me to order whatever only to find out the one thing he can't stand is pineapple, so I figure it's best to play safe and ask."
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lucychatterly:
“God, yeah, me too. Uhhhh… try that drawer f’me— behind ya.”
"-- Got it. I think. Is it the Frank Grisanti one?"
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