EZRA
Jungles are pretty enough, I suppose, but really not my cup of tea. Well, nothing is my cup of tea anymore, except I suppose for human blood- and oh, now I do wish I could mix that with a good jasmine and actually appreciate the taste!
Vampiric tendencies aside, though I do not drink tea I do still make it. More specifically, I make wine, and there are supposed to be some lovely little berries out here with odd properties that would make for a fascinating blend. Thus is my excuse for venturing into a jungle, clad very appropriately in knee-high combat boots, some tastefully torn black leggings, and a black silk top I had long since unbuttoned - not because I needed to, but more because I can. Fuck the weather, darling, I do what I want.
I'm not looking for trouble, I'm looking for fruit. And yet trouble is what I seem destined to find - trouble in the form of a young woman who practically leaps from her skin when I trip over a vine behind her, swearing audibly and stumbling down onto my knees. Not a position I particularly mind, when it's by choice, but an obnoxious one just now. Palms on the ground I look up at my assailant, taking in her readied posture, the way her hand lingers near a knife that hangs dangerously from her belt.
Gulp.
Ok, Ezra, this is fine. You've been in much deeper shit. I try to look harmless as I meet the woman's eyes, still on my knees but now raising my hands up and flashing my brightest, most please-don't-murder-me-thanks smile. "If you're going to stick me, the least you can do is buy me a drink first."
Vampiric tendencies aside, though I do not drink tea I do still make it. More specifically, I make wine, and there are supposed to be some lovely little berries out here with odd properties that would make for a fascinating blend. Thus is my excuse for venturing into a jungle, clad very appropriately in knee-high combat boots, some tastefully torn black leggings, and a black silk top I had long since unbuttoned - not because I needed to, but more because I can. Fuck the weather, darling, I do what I want.
I'm not looking for trouble, I'm looking for fruit. And yet trouble is what I seem destined to find - trouble in the form of a young woman who practically leaps from her skin when I trip over a vine behind her, swearing audibly and stumbling down onto my knees. Not a position I particularly mind, when it's by choice, but an obnoxious one just now. Palms on the ground I look up at my assailant, taking in her readied posture, the way her hand lingers near a knife that hangs dangerously from her belt.
Gulp.
Ok, Ezra, this is fine. You've been in much deeper shit. I try to look harmless as I meet the woman's eyes, still on my knees but now raising my hands up and flashing my brightest, most please-don't-murder-me-thanks smile. "If you're going to stick me, the least you can do is buy me a drink first."
i may not be everybody's cup of tea
but i'm someone's double shot of tequila
but i'm someone's double shot of tequila
