Emilie smirked, tilting her head to the right and raised a brow. Too much cheerfulness? Wasn't that what his new girlfriend was made out of? And sparkles and sunshine, and rainbows?
Not so much, but he liked the tilt of her head and that amused predator look on her face. "Perhaps. It has been awhile since I have had a good tussle in the woods."
"Mmn," Emilie nodded, not looking--or feeling the least bit sympathetic. "So I've read. Something about your new girlfriend not satisfying you." Her eyes flashed, and her tone reached a new level of condescension. "Must be hard for you."
Stas gave Emilie a long, hard look. He wasn't stupid; she was in the mood to wound someone tonight. He could either play into it or walk away, but he couldn't play against it. He was going to end up torn to shreds either way.
"It is hard all the time, Miss Devlin," he replied lidding his eyes just heavily enough to suggest pent up lust. And didn't he have pent up lust? By the barrel at this point. "My relationship with Miss Garcia is for laughs," he lied forcefully hoping she didn't notice. "I have sought my satisfaction elsewhere, but there is only so much one can do to relieve that kind of tension."
Oh, but she did notice. She was in top form this evening. "Her laughs, or yours? Because I think the only people laughing are the people laughing at you. You look like a fool."
"Enjoy your laughs. It will be over soon enough." He kept all emotion from his voice and took another long inhale on his cigarette. He'd been thinking it would be over from the very beginning. Who was he to deny his own self-fulfilling prophecy? "Did you want something? Other than circling shark-like? There is already more than enough blood in the water."
"One can only hope," Emilie watched him carefully, eyes on her prey. There was a time when she had thought of him more as a peer. Look at what that cheerful little Beauregard bitch had done to him. He was a fluffy bunny now. It turned her stomach.
"Ah, yes. Did you enjoy the rest of the ball?" She grinned again.
She would enjoy that. There was a part of Stas that would too, because then he could stop trying so hard to be anything other than what he was. The fight to keep this thing together was starting to leave him.
"It was lovely," he replied with his infamous smirk hitched back in place. He took a step closer to her, just enough to breathe in her perfume. "I was the prettiest girl there."
He leaned forward and stroked one finger idly over her shoulder. "Sadly I am not such a pretty princess anymore. Such prickles, Miss Devlin. What ever did I do to deserve such a stunt?"
"Hnn," Emilie sighed, examining the lines of his face as she thought about it for a moment. She wasn't in heels or boots for once and she found herself looking up at him.
"I think I just like to watch you suffer." There was no thinking required. It was just a fact. As long as Anastas De Kooning lived and breathed, she'd want to do something about it.
"You could enjoy my suffering up close, my sweet devil." He rarely pulled out his Russian nickname for Emilie, but there it was. He couldn't help but say it aloud.
He ran a finger along her chin, just daring her to lean forward and bite it.
"It could be so much more enjoyable for you." For both of us.
"Mm, That I am aware of." She laughed, though it was soft, breathy even. She tilted her head away from his touch, though she didn't pull away. It was more of a silent offer, like a cat craning her neck when you stroked under her chin.
Though she made no vocal confirmation. She still had her pride, thank you very much.
Stas on the other hand didn't have much pride. "Whatever you like Miss Devlin," he said with an upraised eyebrow and another feather light finger brush to her cheek. "If you find yourself wanting some attention you need only seek me out."
Emilie leaned into his touch, if only slightly. A part of her did miss it. But no. Stas was different back then. It didn't feel quite right anymore, did it?
"As if I would lower myself to your level," She laughed. Even as she said it, she found herself stepping toward him, getting closer.
"I would not dream of lowering your highness any further," he shot back rather darkly. Whether it was some sort of indictment on how low she already was or simply an admission of how low he knew he was, Stas wasn't about to clarify.
Emilie's eyes narrowed, her trademark scowl ebbing back into position. She stood, quite still, a hair's breadth away from him.
"No. You wouldn't." She snarled, her voice low. Her free hand caressed his cheek, though she had to restrain herself from digging her nails into his skin. He would just like that. And so they barely grazed his skin. "Truth be told, Anastas... I don't even know who you are anymore."
He smirked at her as a thought crossed his mind. The fluffy bunnification that Sunny had started disturbed Emilie, maybe almost as much as it disturbed him. "Why does that bother you so much?"
Fuck. Emilie's eyes widened briefly in surprise and immediately narrowed again. She hadn't expected-- What did-- Did she-- Dammit. Her composure was regained in milliseconds, but she knew he would be able to tell he'd caught her off guard. That motherfucker.
"You're not fun anymore," She said quickly, venom dripping from her tone. He had her on the defensive now.
But why? The question taunted her in the back of her mind.
Her reaction, however quick and subtle, surprised him more than anything else so far this evening. He certainly missed playtime, but it caught him entirely off guard to learn that she did too.
He offered her a curt bow and no other indication of how twisted up he was over her reaction. "I am nothing if not a disappointment."
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