#i don't know ANYTHING about these two other than the fact that the're divorced lmao

[two-crabs]

jazz hands. elias finds his ex wife (did you ever name her? you are now bitch) after an argument.

hyacinth is smoking a cigarette.

the rest of her new colleagues have retired for the night, but she's been pacing the back porch of their hotel for the better part of an hour, puffing furtively, her mind racing.

the sagging boards of the porch creak behind her, and she turns around, hiding the cigarette behind her back and waving at the air to disperse the smoke.

"excuse me, i didn't think—" and then she stops cold, crosses her arms, and ashes the cigarette onto the floor. "oh. it's you."

elias is standing there, his thumbs through his belt loops and his collar turned up. his hair is pressed flat against his head after wearing his hat all day long, and there is a look on his face that could've been regret, if she didn't know better.

"thought you quit smoking," he says.

"thought you quit head hunting," and she flicks her wrist, as the cigarette grows back to its original length.

elias ducks his head, sighing. "i'm not here to apologize, cynth. i still think this is a mighty stupid idea you've got stuck up in your head. and i still think you'd be better off goin' home. so i didn't come out here to take any of that back."

"then why did you come out here, lassy?"

she watches his jaw clench and his brows narrow, and she is struck with a petty thrill more satisfying than her illicit smoke.

"force of habit, i s'pose. all these years and the smell of those rockport slims still makes me feel guilty."

he looks at her with that face she'd seen a thousand times: honey-brown eyes peering out from behind long eyelashes, rosy lips stuck somewhere between a questioning smirk and a pitiable pout, head cocked like a submissive animal bearing its neck.

"go to hell, lassy."

the smirk spreads into a wicked grin. "been there, done th—"

"oh, fuck off! i don't need your permission to do a single damn thing anymore, do you hear me?" she takes a step forward, jabbing the air with the cigarette, and much to her surprise, he actually backs away from her. "and i don't need your guilt trips or your artificial concern or your, your....cheap shots at sentimentality!"

his eyes narrow. "concern's real, cynth," he says, his voice low and dangerous, snatching her wrist out of the air. "you'll get eaten alive out here."

hyacinth curls her fingers in, and stubs her cigarette out on the side of his arm. he gasps, releasing her, and blows on the burn, scowling.

"we are colleagues, elias redstone. nothing more. and if you do or say a single thing to suggest otherwise to our new associates..." she clenches her empty fist, and the end of her cigarette blazes like a gas lamp. "i put the next one of these out in your eye."

#i don't know ANYTHING about these two other than the fact that the're divorced lmao #this was fun tho #oc fun times #mayflydecember