[With the fastenings undone and Klavier frustratingly hesitant, Greed sees little choice but to help him work his pants down, hands dipping inside to his hips and hooking his thumbs on the waistband.] That's bullshit. I didn't do shit for you not to trust me over. You're the one who said you two didn't do shit... [Up his sides to his shoulders, Greed take advantage of the opportunity to help him get his shirt off, then hesitating with the initial urge to shove him back down on the desk again.
Fingers drum on his arms, feeling his own mood fade fast with conversation. He can look Klavier in the face, assured that it's the one way to continue avoiding eye contact. So this is his fault. What does that change? He can't apologize. If anything, he's sure he's too quick to hop into bed with someone he's angry with, particularly when it means something on his end. A punch in the face would probably convey meaning a hundred times more clearly, but the question he was pressed with was why he was here.
His tongue clicks as he takes a step back, lifting his hands off of the other man and holding them up in defeat.]
This ain't gonna work at all.
[He's already looking Klavier over with regret; he could have probably kept going and made them both a lot happier than any conversation would.]
I shouldn't have to say this, but who all you wanna fuck's normally just fine with me. Shit! If you're fucking him, it saves me the trouble of having to sell him out to you 'n having to pimp you out to him if yer still that hot to have a go at his ass! You know what you're getting into, and since it's not my fault, I can go ahead 'n do my job without being a hypocrite for settin' you two up once it goes wrong!
With that out of the way, settin' you up with anyone oughtta be a snap! [His arms spread out in a grand gesture, indicating the world at large just opened up. He can guess from the angle of the initial video which computer was initially filming him, he turns to motion to it.] Blowing 'em off's no good. You're good looking like this, but most of 'em won't get through yer hard-to-get stint to make you feel good 'till they've had you once 'n figure they got a little bit of a green light for this kinda thing. That goes for the in-bed kinda feel good and the other kind.
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Fingers drum on his arms, feeling his own mood fade fast with conversation. He can look Klavier in the face, assured that it's the one way to continue avoiding eye contact. So this is his fault. What does that change? He can't apologize. If anything, he's sure he's too quick to hop into bed with someone he's angry with, particularly when it means something on his end. A punch in the face would probably convey meaning a hundred times more clearly, but the question he was pressed with was why he was here.
His tongue clicks as he takes a step back, lifting his hands off of the other man and holding them up in defeat.]
This ain't gonna work at all.
[He's already looking Klavier over with regret; he could have probably kept going and made them both a lot happier than any conversation would.]
I shouldn't have to say this, but who all you wanna fuck's normally just fine with me. Shit! If you're fucking him, it saves me the trouble of having to sell him out to you 'n having to pimp you out to him if yer still that hot to have a go at his ass! You know what you're getting into, and since it's not my fault, I can go ahead 'n do my job without being a hypocrite for settin' you two up once it goes wrong!
With that out of the way, settin' you up with anyone oughtta be a snap! [His arms spread out in a grand gesture, indicating the world at large just opened up. He can guess from the angle of the initial video which computer was initially filming him, he turns to motion to it.] Blowing 'em off's no good. You're good looking like this, but most of 'em won't get through yer hard-to-get stint to make you feel good 'till they've had you once 'n figure they got a little bit of a green light for this kinda thing. That goes for the in-bed kinda feel good and the other kind.