[ what follows after tseng makes himself comfortable is this: an entrance. never let it be said that badou nails doesn’t know how to make one, even when it’s forced on him like this one technically is. some shouting behind the door, and then it’s wrenched open as a lanky redhead gets bodily tossed inside as if he were nothing more than the ragdoll he resembles. there’s some indignant squawking along the way, even after the door has been slammed shut behind him, and what follows that is a fairly mundane introduction and explanation. seems tseng’s designated partner for the evening had tried his luck one too many times at the games, to the detriment of all the players around him, and so he had been heavily recommended trying his hand at a different game, somewhere far less obtrusive, because nobody likes a sore loser more than a house that enjoys putting them in their place.
said place is apparently the “dominant” in this particular scenario, a decision that, if you asked badou, says more about the house’s feelings towards tseng than him, but hey what does he know about any of this. among the paraphernalia is a box of cigarettes that are easily spotted and hoarded, so at least for the time being badou is mollified enough to play along.
besides, it could be worse, couldn’t it? for badou, that is, not for tseng. it’s probably very, very bad right now for tseng. ]
Y’ever wonder why so much of this stuff leans so heavy on punishment? Like, what, they think nobody ever gets off on being a good boy?
[ don’t read too much into that, tseng. badou has about as much sense of his own personal preference as he does sense in general, which is to say a startling amount, but that only ever seems to come up when it’s most inconvenient.
for now he’s content to settle back on one of the chairs, hooking an ankle along the opposite knee in a rather impressive manspread, useless as it is given there isn’t much space in that chair to share anyway. he gives his cigarette a long, dragging draw, like a deep breath before a plunge. his expression reads remarkably unconcerned, all things considered. ]
one or eleven
said place is apparently the “dominant” in this particular scenario, a decision that, if you asked badou, says more about the house’s feelings towards tseng than him, but hey what does he know about any of this. among the paraphernalia is a box of cigarettes that are easily spotted and hoarded, so at least for the time being badou is mollified enough to play along.
besides, it could be worse, couldn’t it? for badou, that is, not for tseng. it’s probably very, very bad right now for tseng. ]
Y’ever wonder why so much of this stuff leans so heavy on punishment? Like, what, they think nobody ever gets off on being a good boy?
[ don’t read too much into that, tseng. badou has about as much sense of his own personal preference as he does sense in general, which is to say a startling amount, but that only ever seems to come up when it’s most inconvenient.
for now he’s content to settle back on one of the chairs, hooking an ankle along the opposite knee in a rather impressive manspread, useless as it is given there isn’t much space in that chair to share anyway. he gives his cigarette a long, dragging draw, like a deep breath before a plunge. his expression reads remarkably unconcerned, all things considered. ]
Go on then. Might as well pick your poison.