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Much Millerson (muchofamuchness) wrote in nevermore_logs,

“Anything to help people get a move on,” Much said, reaching out and flicking the ornate little bell, though everyone had already made their last orders, and fuck them if they wanted something else out of him, Much wanted to go home. Or, to Erato’s home. To her bedroom full of gently wafting curtains and that wide, wide soft bed and why exactly had he only gone home with her the once? What was he, some kind of idiot? She was so much fun, and so up for it, and so - yeah there really must have been something wrong with him that he’d let several months past since last time they hooked up.

He reached to grab her cup so he could add it to the few he had left to wash, his eyes taking in the glow of her skin, the pink of her lips. “I won’t be long,” he promised her, as Kratos motivated a few stragglers in a corner booth to get gone. He wasn’t going to try and shuffle her alone, though; he knew Erato too well. Much shot him a nod and turned his attention back to Erato as he dropped her cup into the dishwasher. “Good night so far? Margarita quench enough of that thirst?”