[P] we've smashed to smithereens;

[Acton]

Acton whatever you feed me I'll feed you right back   “Oh, Nameless Girl, you wound me. I do get up to other things, every now and again.” No need to mention that those other things included thieving, cheating at cards, aiding in espionage, or (very rarely) murder. He didn’t even mention, at the moment, his proclivity for magic tricks – some things were better kept waiting for the right moment, and some better left in the shadows altogether. She had whispered him no promises, for Acton surely would be remembering them now. The only womanly contact he’d had in recent months was a bombshell blonde beating his kneecap in, and that had certainly put a damper on any would-be pursuits. So her proximity now has his every nerve aware, or at least as much as they could be when the world wasn’t swimming gently past every time he closed his eyes. “It was my money,” he said, eyeing her lovely lupine grin, “though I somehow can’t recall how it was earned.” He was almost surprised to hear how easily she admitted to belonging here, and was certainly surprised by the little thrill he felt go through him at the knowledge. What might she say, if he admitted the truth: that Denocte was his home no longer, that he was, for the forseeable future, staying here? A part of him wanted to tell her, wanted to remove the mask, set aside the game; the truth tripped up against the back of his teeth. But then he only nodded, and whisked his tail against his hocks, a whisper like long grass against his skin. “Fairer that I thought it a moment ago, before I knew you lived here.” It sounded too true, almost dangerously so; he tried to disguise it with a crooked grin, and was grateful when she continued speaking. His heart had skipped ahead, too fast; it was a relief to let it slow now. Almost he missed the significance of what the talk turned to, but at the mention of a portal he stopped, and looked her full in the face, though any seriousness was ruined by his slight drunken swaying. “Funny, I met a kid last fall who said she arrived the same way. Aren’t you afraid it’s gonna happen again – just flash of light, poof, gone?” The thought struck him as funny, and the buckskin laughed, though there was doubtless something unsettling about it. But for Acton the concept was worlds away from his own life – no gods, no portals, only slight magic; full only of little dramas, the kind that existed between men. They were at the vendor, now, and he turned to look over the impressive array of goblets. When his shoulder brushed once more against hers, he did not draw away, though when he spoke it was a dark mutter, mostly to himself. “And they say the Dusk queen can open up holes between worlds, but pfft, if that were true Reich and Iso would be canoodling on the moon by now.” The wine, when it was passed to them, was a deep and bloody red, near-black in the darkness; if he looked at the lazy circle of it, he could almost make out his own reflection, trembling back up at him. Acton didn’t care to see himself so revealed, so he was glad to look up and find her eyes on him. Gladder still to recognize the look in them; one he knew, one he understood, one it was no challenge to meet. Bottoms up, indeed. He drank deeply of the wine – he was not a man who imbibed with much finesse – and closed his eyes as it ran its bitter warmth down his throat, to pool in his belly like fire. Then he licked his lips and glanced back at her.  “Me, I arrived by boat, like the sensible man I am.” @Pavetta oh god he won't shut up