||[May. 31st, 2011|12:53 am]
empty cage girl
"You're not a creepy old dude. Eddie's a creepy old dude."|
Max snickered against Toby's shoulder, burrowing in like the affection-hog he was. "He's pretty fucking old. Kinda crazy too."
"And yet somehow you like him anyway," Toby smirked, curling in just as snugly. "You're a complicated fellow, Max Lennart."
"You think so?" Max grinned, sounding pleased, but curious. "Tell me about it, mister writer. How would you sum me up on the back of your book?"
"I'd say you're an affection-fiend, distantly related to both Aaron Burr and Marilyn Monroe," Toby said with a smirk. "Also, you enjoy long walks on the beach and having sex with Edward Rupert Wells in inappropriate locations."
"Hey now, we have sex in appropriate locations, too, I don't discriminate," Max said, reveling in the description. "I'm going to have to Google Aaron Burr though. All I know is he killed some dude in a duel."
"Yeah, and then he decided to dissent from the Union, hopped into a raft and sailed away to an island, claiming it as his own country," Toby informed Max. "He killed Hamilton, by the way. After insulting his wife."
"Badass," Max said, brows raised. "I really dig the island-claiming idea. I'm going to have to look into that while the world is still in turmoil. I bet no one would notice."
"What will you name it? Rupert Island?" Toby smirked, teasing, poing Max's stomach. "Eh eh? Perhaps Isle de Edward?"
Max scoffed, and simply rolled to smother Toby with all of his weight. "You're a punk. Maybe I'll name it Stinky's Isle, in memory of that boy I had, until he mysteriously smothered one night."