07-23-2018, 07:33 AM
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If Rialto had any hands free, he'd use it just to pick his nose and flick snot over at two of the most prevalent annoyances in his unlife. Power move. And reasonable Ezra would applaud, in total agreement with his actions, because Rialto had a good quarter of his Ferris wheel carriage occupied by little cactuses and various succulents (good call - he could remember how to water a plant, but then one needed to factor in how often he would actually stand up, and on the way out of his carriage to wreak havoc and get some water, whether or not he came across anything remotely distracting) in exchange for about ten phone tea-stirrers slipped into Ezra's pot plants at home and that meant they were tight.
No. Ezra wouldn't applaud. He'd look at him in silent horror.
Rialto only sniffed at Alex's comment, scowling and pretending to spit off to the side. "Wrong crowd." He lifted the sign higher so Alex didn't obstruct it, nevertheless tolerating their weight, and mindlessly swung Ezra's hand between them. "At least I'm first in something," Rialto leered to Cat, just as blasé, head falling onto Alex's shoulder. "Unless you're talking about the realm of being a stone cold fossil." At the duo's appraisals of his merchandise, the vampire only gave a little shrug. Fair. But anyway, to protect the virtue of the only one that gave his accessories a second glance: "He's not into that. He likes plants, he doesn't get your nasty tongue." Or maybe even nasty tongues in general, with Rialto's included. Ezra needed none of that in his plant house. Only then, gripped by sudden realisation, Rialto rocked forth to block Alex's face with his own, asking Ezra earnestly, "You don't, do you?"
Damn it. Just holding his hand, callused from plant-handling; though their heads were at around the same level and Ezra wore far too many layers to tell from afar, they were so unequal. Rialto's eyes had downright bugged out at the feel of actual muscle when he'd gripped his arm. He is not letting Alex know about this. His boiling pot of envy and also covert admiration. 'Covert'.
"I'm Rialto," he picked up, thudding back against the pineapple into Alex and speaking singsong like he was flocked by starry-eyed kindergarteners. "Another vampire. Artisan. I'll throw in a freebie if you're young, charming and have good taste." Translation: whoever gives his works a compliment. Implicitly inclusive of old people, too. "Business hours at my carriage nine to three. PM to AM." Rialto cracked a sly smile at Ezra, throwing the hair out of his eyes with a flick of his chin. "I'll be your best friend."
No. Ezra wouldn't applaud. He'd look at him in silent horror.
Rialto only sniffed at Alex's comment, scowling and pretending to spit off to the side. "Wrong crowd." He lifted the sign higher so Alex didn't obstruct it, nevertheless tolerating their weight, and mindlessly swung Ezra's hand between them. "At least I'm first in something," Rialto leered to Cat, just as blasé, head falling onto Alex's shoulder. "Unless you're talking about the realm of being a stone cold fossil." At the duo's appraisals of his merchandise, the vampire only gave a little shrug. Fair. But anyway, to protect the virtue of the only one that gave his accessories a second glance: "He's not into that. He likes plants, he doesn't get your nasty tongue." Or maybe even nasty tongues in general, with Rialto's included. Ezra needed none of that in his plant house. Only then, gripped by sudden realisation, Rialto rocked forth to block Alex's face with his own, asking Ezra earnestly, "You don't, do you?"
Damn it. Just holding his hand, callused from plant-handling; though their heads were at around the same level and Ezra wore far too many layers to tell from afar, they were so unequal. Rialto's eyes had downright bugged out at the feel of actual muscle when he'd gripped his arm. He is not letting Alex know about this. His boiling pot of envy and also covert admiration. 'Covert'.
"I'm Rialto," he picked up, thudding back against the pineapple into Alex and speaking singsong like he was flocked by starry-eyed kindergarteners. "Another vampire. Artisan. I'll throw in a freebie if you're young, charming and have good taste." Translation: whoever gives his works a compliment. Implicitly inclusive of old people, too. "Business hours at my carriage nine to three. PM to AM." Rialto cracked a sly smile at Ezra, throwing the hair out of his eyes with a flick of his chin. "I'll be your best friend."
© MADI
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