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Shadows: Whisper | Assassin's Creed

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((Sure.))

 

Abigail pressed her head against his chest and he put his arms around her. "Absolutely." Cullen said, almost whispering. "It's so cold alone." It was cold in his bunk and in the nest. He spent most of his days cold. He might have an affinity but he wanted to warm up like anyone else. He stroked her braided hair and rested his chin lightly on her head. He wanted to stay like that. To not move and just prolong that moment forever. A foolish desire. He could of been thinking of the repercussions of this. That two officers together might have some sort of bias. He could of been thinking of how getting attached in their work, again, might be detrimental. But his thoughts lay elsewhere. His thoughts lay with Abigail in that moment. And the next, coming, hours. His thoughts lay with how he misconstrued her when they met. That she was abrassive and rude. She was lovely and caring, if not a little rogueish. "We can stay warm together."

 

((Too much cute. *explodes*))

Edited by Dusset

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(Nya! Last RP post of the night.)

 

After a rather uneventful night of sleeping (though perhaps not for some...), Abe awoke in her bunk next to Cullen, recalling nearly perfectly the events of the night before. Warm amidst the blankets, the woman yawned, stretched, and looked over at the sleeping form of her new more-than-friend. Kissing him lightly on the cheek, Abigail reluctantly arose and stretched some more. Collecting the bottles of scotch from the night before, she put them back in the chest and locked it, stowing the box away and wiping the sleep from her eyes before heading to check on the cannons. She suspected they'd collected dust or dew over the course of the night and that would mean damage to the metal. That wasn't good. It meant more costs for Cap. And Ceto was lucky to have someone so dedicated as Abe to look after the guns for her, or else they'd be much more eroded.

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Cullen woke up slowly. His eyes blinked open but his mind wasn't awake. Once his head was functioning, his arm still had to get with the program. He sat up to find Abe away. She'd likely gotten up and headed off to her cannons. That was fine. He pulled on what clothes hadn't been on and fastened his boots. He was adjusting his short cape as he strolled from Abe's quarters, which prmpted some looks from nearby sailors. Some of appreciation, some understanding and some just had stupid grins on their faces. Nothing physical had happened to his recollection so he shrugged them off. He made his way up deck and looked around. He didn't have any duties outside of navigating, and they were docked in France for this piece of Eden so they probably weren't leaving soon. So he sat and plyed cards witn a few mates.

 

Roberts hadn't joined the crew until that morning. He walked up the gangplank with lute in one hand and beer in the other. "Wakey wakey, Sista Viska!" He roared happily. He burst out into song on his lute, deft hands playing chords like a hammer hitting nails. He began to sing a bit as he paraded up and down the deck, trying to get the crew that was awake in on it. He was drunk. Of course, he'd never do something like that without alcohol in his blood. He was a jovial drunk. "First man to get a new drink is the first man in line for grub tonight!" He bellowed. Even in his drunk state, he realized most of the crew thought he was just a wandering drunkard that lost his way.

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[i'm going to skip them through the night... okay TMD?]

 

Mary had left sometime during the middle of the night, a pounding headache and Robb next to her. Out of reflex she tried to tie up her hair as she dressed and left the storeroom quietly. Her hands merely moved through her hair, barely holding enough to make a pony tail, but it would pointless to make one. She had to think long and hard about what had transpired. She climbed up the first big boom on the mast, sitting down and watching the waters and sky. She didn't recall what all happened, but the pounding headache told her she had been drunk. Mary knew the feeling, the sobering morning after. You don't need alcohol and a black out to have them... The pain at the sides of her eyes brought on tears, which she blinked away.

 

It was her fault, she only ruined friendships. Her hair blew gently back and forth in the slight breeze as she stared out into the ocean for answers. In a sudden recall of the one fleeting memory of the day before the remainder went too fuzzy, she remembered Robb. He had been laughing so much. An unbidden smile came to her lips, a tiny one that was doused with tears flowing freely from her eyes. Mary would never hear that again, because he would be upset with her. She wouldn't speak with him because it had been her fault. It was always her fault when her plans went awry... Mary moved closer to the mast, using it for support as she sat there watching the city's lights flicker and people move about. Morning only came when she was brutally awakened by Robert's loud yelling.

 

"Go home drunk!" Mary yelled over the mast, readjusting herself for sleep again. Maybe this time Robb would be on her mind less and her dreams wouldn't swim with visions of him. It was bad enough before, but now... now she wanted to remember more of his laughter and what happened. It seemed the sweetest things were always turned sour when you reached for them, so she let the memories she had drift in her mind. Their sweetness not yet corrupted by her looking for something beyond what she had. She should know her place by now.

 

[Whoops, I meant something smaller, but suddenly inspiration stuck...]

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Roberts laughed when Mary shouted at him. "This is home!" He spat. "I be the cook! Ask your fone old captain." He continued to dance about and play his lute. The crew began to get into his playing and even one began to sing along. He was all smiles, well defined laugh lines shown and eyes holding nothing but drunken joy. He barely remembered why he was there, let alone where the lute came from in he first place. He did a jig as he passd a crate when the music abruptly stopped. He fell backwards right onto the crate in a sitting position. He'd finally passed out. The beer he had rolled down the deck and away from him.

 

Poppy had just crept away from a bed that wasn't her's when Roberts boarded. She held her boots in her hand, being polite enough to try not to wake the sleeping form she left. Once she was above deck she pulled them on and grinned. She was furious with Castiel. How dare he force her against a wall? So she slept off her anger. The guy she chose was the one that led the group when pulling up the anchor. She thoughht it might be wise to have some pull with him if she were ever to take this boat. She felt dirty, though. She always did. Why couldn't she just make friends normally? Because she scared them off in vioence. It as never enough to put on a dress, make a pouty face and speak properly. That never brought them back.

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Robb

 

He woke up with a jolt.

The first thing he realized was that he was lying on something hard and uncomfortable. It was made of wood and square, the corners were jabbing into his back. His whole body was aching and sweating profusely, and his head felt like it was being stabbed over and over by a knife. Robb groaned, screwing shut his eyes and wishing the pain to go away. But the more he wished the more the pain came, and he rubbed his brown eyes with two hands. Ugh... What happened last night? Robb sat up, scratching at his bare chest and glancing around the room. It was a huge mess, things strewn around, and smelling like crap. Probably from his sweat.

Wait. There had been a woman. A woman with large, russet brown eyes and short black hair, looming over him and kissing him. Mary. He had... spent the night with her. Why? He felt dirty. Like his father when he bragged about many women. Flushing, he began to dress and, in the end, pulled on his boots. With that, he slipped out of the storage and immediately went to work, not looking up at anyone as he made sure everything was in order. Great, now he felt like a piece of crap. Why did he have to go and mess things up?

 

Ceto

 

Ceto was up and about early that day, walking around the ship and glancing over at everyone that was working. She was captain, so she wanted her Sista Viska in top shape when they set sail. Castiel was prowling around, looking at everyone as well. Good, she needed someone like him to put order. Sighing, she ran her hand through her choppy black hair, glancing up at the sky. Bright blue. Smooth sailing for them. That was good, she didn't want to get caught up in a storm. Walking around some more, she spotted Roberts playing the lute and drinking before passing out. Heh, that seemed fun! Grinning, she walked over to the storage room, surprised that it was open. Who had been in there? Blinking at the keyhole, she saw the metal key with the broken rope. Garrett. Garrett had been in there. Storming into the room, she saw it a complete mess, boxes and materials strewn all over the place and-

No alcohol.

Ceto ground her teeth, eyes wild with panic. No... no beer, wine, no anything! What would happen next? She would possibly go through alcohol withdrawal, laying in her bed and sick as a dog. As the panic subsided, her eyes narrowed with anger. Oh. Garrett was getting what was coming for him.

Grabbing her whip from her belt, she uncurled it and stormed out of the room, rushing to the end of the deck where the poor carpenter was hard at work. With an angry cry, she raised her whip...

 

Garrett

 

Garrett had been depressed. He had heard Cullen and Abe talking all night, in low, hushed tones. He knew that they spent the night together, but only to sleep in each other's embrace. While they were warm, he was cold, sad, alone. Abe was his friend. Did this mean that she hated him? He wanted nothing more than for her to watch the stars with him.

An angry cry sounded and in an instant, his back was on fire. Garrett screeched more out of surprise than pain. He could feel the whiplash seep blood, and he whimpered, trembling and sinking to his knees. Garrett wasn't weak, he just easily surrendered to those who were higher than him and on the same team. The whiplash came again, this time harder. It stung ten times more than the previous one. "Stop, please stop, Ceto." he choked out, before several more blows came to him. Garrett whimpered and curled up on the floor, ducking his head out of the way and trying not to scream under the captain's beating.

"Stop?! Why should I stop?! Huh?! Answer me! Answer me, you piece of censorkip.gif!" the captain was currently a demon. She screeched those words with all of her might, and it made Garrett even more confused.

Garrett hissed as two lashes drew even more blood than before. "I don't even know what I did wrong!" he yelled at her, but before he drew another breath she shoved something in his face. It was a rope cord, his rope cord, with the key to the storage room.

Ceto kicked at his face, making Garrett grunt loudly. He held his face, which had become sticky with blood. "Someone drank all of the rum, Garrett. And it's your fault. I should feed you to the sharks."

Edited by TwilightMoonDragon

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Hearing Roberts sing and play his lute and then pass out, Abe chuckled while she worked. On when she heard Ceto screaming at the top of her lungs did she pause to listen before going on. After about a second of this, her conscience got the better of her and she wandered down, following her ears to the source of the sound. "Now, now, woman. There'll be no feeding him to the sharks today, nor any other day. We need a carpenter, and you know he's not the type to trash the place like this. Clumsy man, but not this clumsy. Besides, I've got a store of my own. Don't hardly drink much of it, but you'd better pay me handsomely for drinking it. I know how much you drink and sometimes I think you'd be better off with the fishies." In truth, she couldn't work knowing that she hadn't a peaceful ensemble to work for. Too much inner turmoil haunted her in her resting hours to let it prevail in her workplace and in her home, especially not when she could help it. And both parties were her friends. It would be simply cruel to let them just go at each other. Of course, Ceto had every right to be angry, but the lashes Garrett had already received were punishment enough, especially through Abe's merciful eyes.

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Ceto

 

Ceto raised the whip again, and Garrett cowered in front of her. Suddenly, there was a voice behind her, and she spun around to face Abe. Did she just call her woman? Her eyes narrowed, especially as she went on. "Who the bloody Hell do you think you're talking to?!" she hissed under her breath, standing face to face with her and glowering at her. "I am not any woman, if you remember. I am your damned captain, and I will be no less. And don't you ever insult me like that again. I'll take your alcohol, but I sure as Hell ain't paying you back." she didn't know if it was just her, but she felt like her crew was very spoiled. She shoved Abe aside and left Garrett, pained, in his own blood. The boy wouldn't be able to move much for the next few days, if he was sensitive to pain. She stormed up to Roberts and kicked him harshly in the side. "Get your ass up and get to work. We have to be done with this by the time that the... They come." she corrected herself. Roberts would know what she meant by "they" soon. She thought it was too good to be true for the Templars to remain quiet all of this time. She was pretty sure that they were stalking them. Hiding in the shadows and waiting for them to get their hands on the Piece of Eden so they could swoop in and steal their prize. Well, she wasn't going to allow that. Not now. Not ever.

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Cullen was in good jest as Roberts sang about. He continued to play cards with those few sailors until Ceto came and whipped Garrett. He winced and thought of stepping in. But he was new, and garnered little to no respect. The captain was angry and he'd rather not step over any boundaries he might not see yet. He deal-ed himself out and took what few coins he'd won. Abigail stepped in for Garrett and the Irishman smiled wide. She had the compassion to step in for another sailor and the guts to do it. He passed by them on the way to the nest, and didn't care for how Ceto spoke to Abigail but held his tongue. This time. But he wouldn't again. He gave the good captain a glare and Abe a nod and headed to the nest. As he scaled the nets, he noticed a figure on the mast. A rare sight, since he was the only one to ever come this far up except for repairs. He didn't think he'd been properly introduced, so he made an effort. Balancing on the great wooden pole, he strode out to her and sat not a foot away. "Precarious spot you've chosen, madame." He said. "Might I ask why?"

 

Roberts shook awake and fell off of his crate. He groaned as he turned over to see his employer standing over him. "Kick me again and we'll see how many fingers you walk away with." He said, brazenly. As he stood up, he held his head, which ached. He was still drunk but the pain made him more coherent. "I don't know who bit your ass but they must've had some balls." He dusted himself off and set his beer down in front of her. "Here, I vaguely heard what you were screaming about." He paused to remember what exactly he was getting paid for, something he wouldn't have forgotten sober. "I'll go whip sumthin' up then. But hear me now, my bones are brittle and my muscles are sore. I ain't jumpin' in the water with a bell for this." He exaggerated, and his voice and face gave it away. He was as fit as possible for his age. "Let me know when you need my input." With that, he spun on his heel and walked in a curved line towards the stairs. He had to know what he was working with, no?

Edited by Dusset

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Abe chuckled, quickly brushing it off. What a bitter lady. The woman wondered what had gotten into her. But that was far from the point at that particular moment. "Are you okay to walk or should I get something for you. I think Robb's going to be a little touchy this morning as well, but I can get him if you wish." Ceto's approval or no, Abe was going to do as she pleased. If Ceto crossed the line, Abe would readily sever her ties and leave the Sista Viska. While she did love the ship and its crew dearly, her recent trip to Marseille showed her that she did have someone else to care for and succeed if she really did want to leave. Shipmanning was dangerous and difficult work. It involved hours upon hours in the sun or in the chilling rain making her sail true and smooth, as well as near-starvation and the risk of scurvy during the long voyages. All spent with Ceto, a very passionate leader to say the least. But mutiny was always something to contend with, and if the woman played her cards wrong, she and all her supporters would soon be dead. It all depended on who the key players favored in that battle. Abe, for one, would definitely be wavering on the day-to-day. "She'll forget in a few days, probably. It's just that she's so volatile. So much lead by her emotions, as all Italians are."

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Garrett

 

Well, that hurt. A lot. Garrett screwed shut his eyes when Ceto left, and trembled. He thought he was alone, until someone spoke to him. Abe. She was still there? Why was she talking to him? "... I'm... Okay, I guess. I can shake it off." he said, seriously, with a stern face. He staggered to his feet and leaned on the railing. "Is it just me, or does the color of my blood go perfectly with my shirt?" he laughed, throwing a jest, as always.

 

[HW]

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Mary

Mary glanced at Cullen as he came to sit. Normally she would be loud and happy and excited to see him. She din't know him personally, but that was what she did. "It's quiet. Gives me time to think." was her reply. A simple answer for a simple question. Mary guessed a lot of people weren't that deep, but a lot of them thought they were. They could all be false and lie because it gave them meaning and depth, but in the end it would be a happy ending for the main characters because it was all a story anyway. Mary thought that perhaps she was merely a supporting character, or perhaps she was the dragon that needed to be slain...

 

Theresa

"So, when are you going to say that the Templars are coming?" Theresa said, stepping out of the shadows with silent elegance. "We can pretend all we want, but if we don't find this piece..." she trailed off, letting Ceto fill in the blanks. She shook her head, wondering what she would have to do to obtain money for herself. Kill for money and little else? Beg her brother to let her father un-disown her for running away to become a pirate?

 

[bed]

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Cullen nodded in silence. He looked out over the water as he formulated a response. Not as if what he asked warranted an intellectual discussion. He didn't know what to say because he knew Mary only by face. Not even her name. Why not change that? He held out a hand and said "I'm Cullen. Reid." He offered her a smile. "And I'd like to reccomend you hop down because once we sail that rope on the other side of you is going to snap tight."

 

((I'd say it's short because of school... But I'm on a bus. Close enough.))

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Ceto

 

The woman looked at her first mate, her aggressive face melting away into one of worry. She picked up the bottle that Roberts left her, and tipped it against her lips. Ceto felt like the alcohol in the bottle was a bit too watery... Her blue eyes focused on the distance. "... I'm not sure that they are going to come or not. But I know that there is a threat." Ceto told her, clasping her hands behind her back. She was truly worried. They were right above the Piece, but she had to make sure that the ship was properly prepared for an attack. If she was not on board and the Templars attacked her crew, then it would be just horrible. People would die. And she wasn't about to let that happen. "The Piece is underwater. There is a cove that is harboring it in this very bay. We need to lower the diving bell and begin soon." she explained, beginning to walk to the front of the boat and expecting her to follow. Her eyes became distant and sad. Maybe they would attack. And then they would all die. Or be taken to the gallows at England. Ceto was always worried about dying an untimely death. "You know that I wanted to be an artist when I was little? I wanted to become as great as Leonardo da Vinci. But I never picked up a paintbrush and painted. I always fought with boys twice my age."

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Mary

 

"Mary." she said, standing up to climb down. "Sorry that we haven't talked more. I kinda don't see you around the ship." she shrugged. "I figure that you're kinda hard to miss, with that flaming red hair…" she smiled. "If you ever need some water to put it out, just call me, okay?"

 

Theresa

 

Theresa nodded as Ceto spoke, smiling when the other woman said wanted to paint. "Dear, you can still paint." she said, but paused. "That's not what you mean though. Ceto, we have a darn good crew, and the Templars aren't in sight. We are pirates, Ceto." Theresa explained as she followed her captain. "We are either going out in a fight to the death or at the gallows. We chose this life knowing what would happen, dear. That does not mean that we're going down willingly, but it is something I and the others have prepared for. And when I was young I waited to see the world, but I learned that the only way to go about life is the hardest way. Doing anything less is a waste. So if you still wish to paint, then paint. However, I don't think you would have the patience for it." she smiled at the small joke. There was a real chance if the Templars attacked people would die, but people die every day.

 

[school.]

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Ceto

 

Ceto glanced up at Theresa and grinned. Her first mate was a good woman. The only woman she loved on her ship. She was very smart and very cunning, like her. If she had to make a sacrifice, she would be a great captain. Captain Theresa of the Sista Viska. She shoved her playfully and turned to the crew. "Get ready to set sail! We are sailing to the edge of the bay, and searching underwater. Come on! Move it!"

 

[school]

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Cullen grinned. "Pleased to meet your acquaitance, Mary." He stood up himself and moved back up to the mast. "I imagine you haven't seen me around because I sleep odd hours. Up here most of the waking hours, too."He moved out onto he nets so he could go up. "Next time you want some quiet I invite you into the nest. I'd hate to see you fall off the masts. But now, it's probably best that we part. I imagine you have some job to do. Good day." He nodded and continued his climb to his little perch above the world. He had such a vantage from there. He checked his jacket for flint and steel so that he could light the lantern, whch served as a heat source for him.

 

Poppy was sitting about, fizzling out and not okay with that. She watched Garrett get whipped and had an idea. A devious revenge idea. Garrett was on her side. He wouldn't have tools without her. She waited and watched a moment. Abe came to him but they had only spoken a minute when Poppy showed up. "It matches, but it won't for long. Come on before it all dries brown and clashes." She said with a little, innocent smile. She even cocked her head to the side a little. "Plus, I have some vodka downstairs. Might as well be pure alcohol. We'll get you cleaned right up." She took his arm and smiled at Abe, too.

 

((Corrected for canon and spelling/grammar/punctuation.))

Edited by Dusset

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Abe narrowed her eyes at Poppy as if to tell her to watch herself. While Abe was usually a pacifist, she would not hesitate to put Poppy in her place if she was getting to taking advantage of Garrett's naivety to get people on her side. But women were generally quite covert with each other, communicating with only disapproving looks and pursed lips. All but the most observant of men would overlook it until it grew into a full-on fight. Still, she nodded with a straight face and kept her stern eyes on Poppy to let her know that she wasn't going to mess around. If she didn't play her cards right, one precious ally would be against her. And Abe knew how much allies meant of Heidi...

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Garrett

 

A new person stopped by. For a second, he thought that they came over to make fun of him. But no, it was Poppy, a friend in his eyes. She had saved him from a flaying from Ceto when his box of tools disappeared. She was nice to him and didn't degrade him or ignore him. "It's nice that I'm in fashion. Who knew blood red could go so well with beige?" he joked, wincing only slightly as Poppy hooked her arm with him. She was saying something about it drying brown and clashing with his shirt. Well, he wasn't that worried about his fashion sense. He was worried that the wounds would heal and then reopen again and again. He once had a wound that festered but that was because he kept on scratching at it. Luckily it wasn't that bad. "Lead the way, will you? The lashes are beginning to sting more and more." he told Poppy, glancing over at Abe to see if she would follow.

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Poppy jut continued giving Abe a smile. She knew she didn't approve and would have to do something about it later. But not now. No, now she was going to rub Garrett in Castiel's face. She began to lead him below deck slowly enough so he didn't have to strain, and sat him down on her bunk. She scooted under it for just a momnt before resurfacing with a bottle of vodka, a clean rag and some bandages. She didn't exactly clean wounds often but she knew what she was doing. "Alright now. Let's get that shirt off, huh?" She began to unbutton it and moved around behind him to tug it off. Once that was done, she poured the drink onto the rag. "This'll sting, alright?"She imagined it burnt like wild fire as she wiped down the lashes across his back. "There. All clean." She grabbed up those bandages and put her arms around his torso to pull a length. Her hands pulled it against his chest and began wrapping, but her hands lingered. They wrapped slowly and traced his muscles as they encountered them. Her smile had been replaced with a devilish grin and her seemingly pure intentions began to show their corruption.

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Garrett

 

Garrett smiled as he was lead below deck, still hooking arms with Poppy. He didn't see the big deal; she was a friend, wasn't she? The blond man sat down on the bunk and blinked as Poppy pulled off his shirt. From this angle he could see the blood that stained the back of his shirt like russet serpents. Ugh, he didn't want to look at his back, and luckily, he couldn't. Poppy said that the vodka would hurt, and when the clear liquid touched his back, it burned like a raging wildfire. Garrett screwed shut his eyes, waiting for the pain to subside. He had broken an arm on the Sista Viska before, and it hurt very much. Robb had said that mending the bone was painful, and most major wounds hurt as they healed. That was what was happening now. But in no time, the bandages were wrapped around him. Though, the lady's hands were wrapping in front of his chest. Her lithe fingers traced his muscles and lingered in certain places. Garrett flushed, the overwhelming feeling coming over him as he gazed at her. "... Uh... Poppy... I think that's enough bandaging..." he admitted, dropping his eyes to the floor and turning even redder. The man was not used to touching and romance, but he supposed he could try. If it was with a woman he loved more than anything.

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Poppy cut the bandages and tied them off. "I believe so, yah." She slid in the german affirmation. She dropped her tools into the box she kept under he bed and kicked it under. "It's going to hurt a lot. I' reccomend you take somthing for it." He stood before him and lifted his chin with her finger. "You could drink it off..." She pushed him so that he would lay back on the matress. "Or you could let me try to get your mind off it." She crawled over him and kissed his neck. "I think you'll find I'm pretty good at that." She could do this, or she could call in her favor and help her frustrate Castiel. The second might be the most wise, but the first would be the most fun. And she'd get to call in a favor later.

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Garrett

 

Well, this was... different. Poppy tipped his chin up and, yet Garrett avoided her gaze. What the hell was wrong with her? Why couldn't she just go? He was going under stress, and sweat was already beading on his forehead. Even if he wanted to, what would he do to pleasure her? He had heard of naughty things from the other crew members, but he just couldn't bring himself to imagine himself doing that. "Oof!" he huffed as he was shoved onto the mattress. The figure of Poppy loomed over him. She was exceptionally pretty. Why couldn't he be like the crew members? Because it was wrong. He thought of this as she kissed his neck. The feeling was amazing, and his mind was racing. His heart was beating and he was pretty sure that he was going to pass out soon. Garrett put his hands on her sides and attempted to pull her off. "Poppy, let me up." his voice was firm, strict, showing discontent with the situation that he was in. But in no way was he about to harm her.

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Poppy was surprise when he spoke up. She was a bit more surprised when he bgan to push her off. She stopped cold and got off of him,sitting on the bed next to him. "I'm... Sorry." She said, a little shocked. No one had refused her before. Either they initiated and she broke their arm or she did and they complied. She couldn't think of anything to say, really. She felt embarrased though. She felt stupid. She stood up and gathered his shirt off the floor and handed it to him in silence. Her face was red but mostly from embarrasment than anything else. She brushed hair from her face and wondered if he was taken. No one but the gaelics were,to her knowledge.

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Garrett

 

Garrett sat up and took his shirt from Poppy. "You don't need to be sorry. I'm... not that kind of man." he told her as he pulled his shirt on.

 

[Din din!]

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