milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Mercutio is cooler than you, and you, and you. In fact, he's cooler than all of you. AHAHAHA!

He doesn't look awe-inspiringly cool at the moment, though. In fact, he looks kind of amusing. He's on the rug in front of the fire, curled right around with his head on his arm, still reading the Italian guidebook, sounding out the words as he goes, with a contemplative frown.

He'll squeak if you poke him.

[ooc: i have three essays to write tonight. so this entrance post is going to be live for... a very long while.]

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There's an assenting mumble from somewhere in Mercutio's jumper.

"Of shoes? Or kings?"

He runs a hand into Brian's hair, curling it around his fingers.

Brian doesn't answer, just pushes his head against Mercutio's hand, a little like a cat too long since being petted.

"I know little of kings, but I am of a Prince's household."

Petting he can do, and well. He tucks a few locks of hair behind Brian's ear.

"It is not particularly exciting."

"Ha, you lie! Unless it's all, like, corgis and shit."

He's pushing against Mercutio's hand, quite demandingly. The rest of the Them are usually too busy for hugs, these days, and Brian's been kinda lonely.

"It is not. Escalus may find it exciting, but I merely find it useful."

He strokes Brian's hair, trailing it through his fingers, and drops a kiss on the top of his head.

"How are corgis involved?"

"It's a king thing. Like beheading, and not eating spaghetti in public."

"Ah. Not a prince thing, I think. Although I can see the logic behind the spaghetti."

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