A gala night for the grand opening of the gallery showing Paloma has helped to organise, and which Jekyll has been key in funding, sees both Henry and his twin in attendance.
The key difference is that while one wears a fine suit and is well groomed while giving a speech as an introduction and thank-you to all who made the event possible, the other skulks around, messy and wearing clothing that's just as expensive, but...out of place. Which, when Henry spots him, he tries to at least straighten him out and make him look more presentable. He pulls him off to a washroom to comb his hair and throw a tie on him. But that one mostly appears to grab champagne and harass the waiting staff into slipping into some back room with him.
The bar the boss has dragged Paloma along to next is definitely the scummiest, and the loudest thanks to the live performance of a sort of grindcore punk group. The stage is doused in red light, with the singer shirtless and plainly sweating buckets from how long and hard they've been playing. And oh look, isn't that a familiar face.
Jekyll's prompt in picking her up right at six, and the restaurant is one that has such delicacies as truffles. A nod to her guilt over the meal the night before, to tell her it's fine. Which also means it's the sort of restaurant with a strict dress code. Men must wear suit jackets.
Their first noticed of his brother's date crashing is some slight commotion of a hostess chasing after him with a jacket and demanding he put it on or leave.
Paloma had changed her mind about staying the night the very same instant she realized her lack of something basic: clothing. Bizarrely, requesting to borrow Hyde's shirt embarrasses her a good deal more than looking him in the eye after-- congress.
Unnatural silence weighs on her over an hour into everyone arranging in bed. Henry Jekyll to her right, his hungry brother Edward to the left. The way their bodies lie even feels wrong and controlled, although perhaps in comparison to Hyde's lack of anxiety about sharing the closest quarters there could ever be... it's frozen, and she's floating in a heat wave of quiet when finally she slips off to dream.
A dream of wool suffocating her nose and mouth that peels away to cool vacancy and then slippery pushing, pulling. A boot's flat, rounded sole edging over her ribcage, and far lower. Paloma curls lengthily outward, like a kitten.
They'd carefully curated a film to watch without any sex scenes or subject matter that would definitely excite an excitable young man, which sort of felt like she and Jekyll were adults selecting a movie for some teenaged menace. Tea, biscuits, and a post-wank lethargic Hyde made for a comfortable pileup.
At ten in the morning, having overslept her text-the-boss time by an hour, Paloma's eyes crack open to a face full of shaggy blond hair. Even after resting in uncertain wakefulness for a minute she's unsure of where she begins and Edward or Henry end; whose knee is under her butt, who has their hand on her ribs, and whose foot is wedged between hers?
Her escape looks less likely by the second. She attempts to sit up and groans, the soreness in her snatch very pronounced. New and foreign activity.
Tonight Jekyll's a bit busy with appointments, he's promised to come later but for now it's Paloma and Hyde, in another dingy green room. Hyde half naked and a little high, sprawled on the couch and once again trying to coax her into sitting with him. "I got a headache, rub it?" The most pathetic voice.
Neither of the boys want to drive this time, since it would mean the other gets to sit in the back and cuddle up with Paloma. They finally agree on a cab and put Paloma in the middle to hold onto her hands. No one's been more upset to stand in an airport lobby.
Hyde didn't want to let Paloma go to work, because why should she have to do something dumb like that?
Good thing she could slip out while he slept like a rock in another room.
It does however, mean he was left to his own devices and having no entertainment at home and an inability to even cook for himself, naturally he had to go out into the city.
In the late afternoon she gets a call on her cellphone from the local police department and an officer asking if she really does know this idiot white boy. The officer speaks Spanish of course, while Hyde can be heard muffled in the background demanding to know what they're both saying.
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The key difference is that while one wears a fine suit and is well groomed while giving a speech as an introduction and thank-you to all who made the event possible, the other skulks around, messy and wearing clothing that's just as expensive, but...out of place. Which, when Henry spots him, he tries to at least straighten him out and make him look more presentable. He pulls him off to a washroom to comb his hair and throw a tie on him. But that one mostly appears to grab champagne and harass the waiting staff into slipping into some back room with him.
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Their first noticed of his brother's date crashing is some slight commotion of a hostess chasing after him with a jacket and demanding he put it on or leave.
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Unnatural silence weighs on her over an hour into everyone arranging in bed. Henry Jekyll to her right, his hungry brother Edward to the left. The way their bodies lie even feels wrong and controlled, although perhaps in comparison to Hyde's lack of anxiety about sharing the closest quarters there could ever be... it's frozen, and she's floating in a heat wave of quiet when finally she slips off to dream.
A dream of wool suffocating her nose and mouth that peels away to cool vacancy and then slippery pushing, pulling. A boot's flat, rounded sole edging over her ribcage, and far lower. Paloma curls lengthily outward, like a kitten.
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At ten in the morning, having overslept her text-the-boss time by an hour, Paloma's eyes crack open to a face full of shaggy blond hair. Even after resting in uncertain wakefulness for a minute she's unsure of where she begins and Edward or Henry end; whose knee is under her butt, who has their hand on her ribs, and whose foot is wedged between hers?
Her escape looks less likely by the second. She attempts to sit up and groans, the soreness in her snatch very pronounced. New and foreign activity.
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"Will she be meeting you at the gate, or...?"
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Good thing she could slip out while he slept like a rock in another room.
It does however, mean he was left to his own devices and having no entertainment at home and an inability to even cook for himself, naturally he had to go out into the city.
In the late afternoon she gets a call on her cellphone from the local police department and an officer asking if she really does know this idiot white boy. The officer speaks Spanish of course, while Hyde can be heard muffled in the background demanding to know what they're both saying.
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