<lyla> a box full of sharp objects

[Mitty]

The beer was stale. Not in that open bottle for god-only-knows-how-long. It was stale in that left-over-from-a-bunch-of-different-bottles-and-combined-into-one way. Obviously, the bartender had no respect for Mitty whatsoever. He deserved to be punished, but Mitty was too lazy to put any effort into it, so it wouldn't be any fun. Besides, it wouldn't make the drink taste better, or make the people dancing look any hotter.

His eyes glanced around the bar critically. The bouncers were fat, not buff, and he sincerely doubted that they could possibly keep out anyone but the anorexic whore sitting a few feet away from the door. She was kind of cute, and much cuter than anyone else in the sweat-stinking room, but the fact that her waist was about as big around as Mitty's biceps was a definite turn-off. Her hair looked like it was falling out in clumps. Mitty wondered what the last meal she had had was. Probably water or crackers or something. Actually, the thought of force feeding her was making Mitty laugh. He would show her who was boss and make her eat. Watch her puke up her first real meal and laugh his ass off.

Smirking, he walked over to her and slid his arm around her slim waste. He whispered in her ear, "Hey, there, honey. Wanna go have some dinner with me?"

He almost wondered why she had shown up at the bar anyway. Judging by her clothes, and her face, she was normally a fairly clean kid. Not that that would last long if she went by his rules. He would make sure to make her feel dirty. It would amuse him to turn the 'nilla girl down the path of no return.

[—› lyla morgan *]

Stop swallowing glass just to cough up blood for attention.

L Y L A

For this particular night, Lyla was in a foul mood. Jason was no where to be found and she couldn't believe that he'd just leave. She felt used, because no one wanted her. She'd never been really talkative, ever. For reasons that couldn't be explained. Her eyes glared at the guard as she whipped out her 'licence'. Her let her pass, as she shoved through the hole to get in and his stomach. Fat bouncers never put her down. Just throw a couple of cupcakes on a table and they'll be fighting over themselves to get them. Easy get away, bby. But for Lyla, not even picking on the fat guys made her happy. Here she was, going back to the depressed stage. Bring on the misery.

As she made her way through couples making-out and drunken bastards, she stopped at the bar, sliding up onto one of the spinney go-around chairs. "Oh god, not the Britney Spears song." Lyla made a gagging motion with her hand. Closing her eyes, she sighed. Why did she come here? To get away from the smell of him, to try and forget about him? Obviously, it wasn't working. Watching a guy mess with a seriously fucked up girl, obviously making fun of her. She scowled. It was bastards like him that she had no liking for. "Tough guy, gotta pick on the ladies huh, darlin'?" Lyla muttered under her breath, she knew the bartender heard her, but did he?

Sometimes I wish I was a white crayon, that way no one would ever use me.

[Mitty]

Mitty heard a voice mutter something that vaguely sounded like an insult. He slipped away from his target, ignoring her to find out just who had decided to try and mess with him. When he spotted who it was, he almost laughed at the irony. This girl was almost as skinny as the first one. He grinned cockily. "She wanted me, sweetheart. Just like you do."

He started checking her out, starting at the floor and going upwards. She was skinny as hell, and for some reason that was today's turn-on. Hopefully, tomorrow's wouldn't be fat chicks, because that's just foul. His eyes lingered on her small chest for a few moments and imagining just what he'd do with those. So what she was going to play hard to get. He loved the girls who pretended they didn't want him. This one was no exception, except that she looked kind of depressed as well. Maybe she'd be all self-destructive on him. Masochists were hot.

"I'm Mitty. You, however, can call me God. Because I'll be your sex god, sexy, and you will be my slave." He felt the urge to inform her of their inevitable future so that she wouldn't decide to change it. When Mitty made a decision, it was made, and the whole world was going to fucking deal with it.

{OOC: Sorry it's so short. Muse=dead}