[ Vanitas can feel a heat curling in his belly, one he's unfamiliar with. Like in swallowing the liquid in that little glass, it struck a flint against a rock and set off sparks. Like someone has cast Fira straight into the inside of his belly. The sensation is strange, but it fills him up— distracts him from the other things that take up his attention. The yawning void in his chest where a piece of his heart has been yanked out. The creeping, humid cold that's slowly been reaching it's icy fingers across Beacon as the weather turns. The hollow apathy that's kept him in bed for days on end.
The other shot glass stays on the counter for a beat longer. Bruce speaks instead of reaching for it— so Vanitas makes the decision for him and picks it up, tips that one back, too. That chocolate flavor spreads out all over him, burns his mouth and reaches up into his face, pinching his cheeks pink. When he puts the glass down, it's just a little too hard, a little clumsy.
Vanitas turns, then, and reaches for the first bottle Bruce had been using to pour. ]
What do you care?
[ It's not that Vanitas is less aggressive now, but the viciousness with which he'd come at Bruce with when they first met has been successfully diverted. Instead of putting his energy into making Bruce feel as bad as possible, Vanitas redirects that focus into trying to recreate the layered effect Bruce had made in the tiny glass.
He messes up the first one, the colors pool together into something muddy. Vanitas picks that one up and tosses it back, throat working around the burn, and tries again— this time with a little more success. ]
no subject
The other shot glass stays on the counter for a beat longer. Bruce speaks instead of reaching for it— so Vanitas makes the decision for him and picks it up, tips that one back, too. That chocolate flavor spreads out all over him, burns his mouth and reaches up into his face, pinching his cheeks pink. When he puts the glass down, it's just a little too hard, a little clumsy.
Vanitas turns, then, and reaches for the first bottle Bruce had been using to pour. ]
What do you care?
[ It's not that Vanitas is less aggressive now, but the viciousness with which he'd come at Bruce with when they first met has been successfully diverted. Instead of putting his energy into making Bruce feel as bad as possible, Vanitas redirects that focus into trying to recreate the layered effect Bruce had made in the tiny glass.
He messes up the first one, the colors pool together into something muddy. Vanitas picks that one up and tosses it back, throat working around the burn, and tries again— this time with a little more success. ]
You got what you came here for.