"You know, Mukuro-chan, entering without knocking is why you couldn't get a girlfriend," M.M. muses aloud, not even bothering to make eye contact with the illusionist whether by turning around or looking at him through the mirror. Instead, she stays right where she is, lips puckered as she patiently wipes away every trace of lipstick. She doesn't really care for a "nude and natural" look. It's just a lie men feed themselves to think they're better. When she wears lipstick, she wants people to damn well know she is.
Coincidentally, the man sprawled out on the floor unconscious is one of those types, and M.M. catches the flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye where Mukuro idly nudges the pig with his trident. He might be disgusted with the man or he might not be. With the types like Mukuro, everything is hidden behind an insufferably smug smirk a solid 75% of the time. "Oh, but not a boyfriend?" he says with a lazy drawl.
M.M. pops her lips, both in disdain and to make sure everything is clear of her skin. "We both know the only reason you have two is because they never had a chance to learn better," she says bluntly, turning her head to the side to cast a critical gaze upon her skin. There's no reason to wipe away any of the foundation. A little blush here, some eyeliner there, and she thinks this can be a salvageable look. "Isn't it lucky that you have a more worldly woman like me to know what you're really worth?" Digging through her purse, she pulls out a tube of brilliant red lipstick that's a lot more eyecatching.
From behind her, she can hear the click of Mukuro's obnoxious heels as he approaches her long before his arms slide against hers. For any other person, maybe this would be considered a pinning maneuver with the way his chest can just barely be felt at her back and his gloved hands press down against the counter. M.M. doesn't bother to be worried. Even with his eye able to enhance his own combat ability, she's more than confident she could twist his arm right off her if she was worried. Instead, as he leans his head over his shoulder, she uncaps her lipstick and offers it up him. "So what am I worth?" he asks, amusement coating his voice, before he obligingly purses his lips together.
She could rush it, because they're in the private suite of one of the richest corrupt businessmen in the world (which are most of them honestly), and any fucking around could have both of them jumping out of an extremely tall building... But she doesn't. Instead, M.M. patiently traces red all along Mukuro's mouth until it's a nice brilliant crimson. Only then does she say, "For tonight, $6,500 dollars, although I can convert that for you if you only have euros or yen on hand."
Laughing at her, Mukuro pulls away and leaves his trident where he'd rested it against a wardrobe. "So demanding," he says.
"Say the man who needs most of his pawns brainwashed into self harm," M.M. murmurs around her lipstick, somehow managing to speak without smudging even a little bit of red out of line. Frankly, she's quite proud of the fact that she's managed to get this far in their relationship without having that trident ever even touch her skin... or be tossed aside back into the slammer for being too useless. One would be annoying, but the other would be downright infuriating.
She's not about a life back in prison, which Birds and his two pathetic dogs have to deal with for as long as their no-doubtedly short lives will go on. M.M. wants the finer things in life: the good food, the extravagant hotels, the beautiful clothes, and everything else the world has to offer her. Life is short, and M.M. has never found herself to be a particularly religious type. If there's no guarantee on her life, whether from a random sudden heart attack or surge of cancer or a plane's engines failing... Why not?
Maybe if she'd ever forged one of Mukuro's little contracts with him, not much of her life would change... Maybe. But M.M. knows better than to hand that amount of power over to another person like that. After all, if she wouldn't date a man who'd insist on if she worked or not, or on what kind of clothes she could wear, or who she could speak with... Why would she let a man take utter control of her body? Better to keep things simple and upfront with cash.
Besides, while she's pretty sure they were like that long before any blood contracts were made, she can't imagine living in such slavish (and dirt poor) devotion as Chikusa and Ken. Ew.
By the time she's done applying her lashes and eyeshadow, Mukuro has freely rifled through most of what few business papers are in the bedroom proper. M.M. can see just the slightest pinprick down on their target's legs, right on the back of his calf where it's unlikely to go noticed. No one seems to know how Mukuro can worm his way into powerful organizations and businesses, learning things that should be the most closely guarded secrets- not yet at least. M.M. is fairly certain that it's only herself and a small amount of the Vongola for fairly obvious reasons. Well, and Mukuro's own group, of course. That should go without saying. Stepping over the body, M.M. leans against Mukuro's back with her elbow digging into his kidney. On purpose. Of course. "Find anything fun and interesting?" she asks, blowing into his ear so that his earring sways.
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1/2
Coincidentally, the man sprawled out on the floor unconscious is one of those types, and M.M. catches the flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye where Mukuro idly nudges the pig with his trident. He might be disgusted with the man or he might not be. With the types like Mukuro, everything is hidden behind an insufferably smug smirk a solid 75% of the time. "Oh, but not a boyfriend?" he says with a lazy drawl.
M.M. pops her lips, both in disdain and to make sure everything is clear of her skin. "We both know the only reason you have two is because they never had a chance to learn better," she says bluntly, turning her head to the side to cast a critical gaze upon her skin. There's no reason to wipe away any of the foundation. A little blush here, some eyeliner there, and she thinks this can be a salvageable look. "Isn't it lucky that you have a more worldly woman like me to know what you're really worth?" Digging through her purse, she pulls out a tube of brilliant red lipstick that's a lot more eyecatching.
From behind her, she can hear the click of Mukuro's obnoxious heels as he approaches her long before his arms slide against hers. For any other person, maybe this would be considered a pinning maneuver with the way his chest can just barely be felt at her back and his gloved hands press down against the counter. M.M. doesn't bother to be worried. Even with his eye able to enhance his own combat ability, she's more than confident she could twist his arm right off her if she was worried. Instead, as he leans his head over his shoulder, she uncaps her lipstick and offers it up him. "So what am I worth?" he asks, amusement coating his voice, before he obligingly purses his lips together.
She could rush it, because they're in the private suite of one of the richest corrupt businessmen in the world (which are most of them honestly), and any fucking around could have both of them jumping out of an extremely tall building... But she doesn't. Instead, M.M. patiently traces red all along Mukuro's mouth until it's a nice brilliant crimson. Only then does she say, "For tonight, $6,500 dollars, although I can convert that for you if you only have euros or yen on hand."
Laughing at her, Mukuro pulls away and leaves his trident where he'd rested it against a wardrobe. "So demanding," he says.
"Say the man who needs most of his pawns brainwashed into self harm," M.M. murmurs around her lipstick, somehow managing to speak without smudging even a little bit of red out of line. Frankly, she's quite proud of the fact that she's managed to get this far in their relationship without having that trident ever even touch her skin... or be tossed aside back into the slammer for being too useless. One would be annoying, but the other would be downright infuriating.
She's not about a life back in prison, which Birds and his two pathetic dogs have to deal with for as long as their no-doubtedly short lives will go on. M.M. wants the finer things in life: the good food, the extravagant hotels, the beautiful clothes, and everything else the world has to offer her. Life is short, and M.M. has never found herself to be a particularly religious type. If there's no guarantee on her life, whether from a random sudden heart attack or surge of cancer or a plane's engines failing... Why not?
Maybe if she'd ever forged one of Mukuro's little contracts with him, not much of her life would change... Maybe. But M.M. knows better than to hand that amount of power over to another person like that. After all, if she wouldn't date a man who'd insist on if she worked or not, or on what kind of clothes she could wear, or who she could speak with... Why would she let a man take utter control of her body? Better to keep things simple and upfront with cash.
Besides, while she's pretty sure they were like that long before any blood contracts were made, she can't imagine living in such slavish (and dirt poor) devotion as Chikusa and Ken. Ew.
By the time she's done applying her lashes and eyeshadow, Mukuro has freely rifled through most of what few business papers are in the bedroom proper. M.M. can see just the slightest pinprick down on their target's legs, right on the back of his calf where it's unlikely to go noticed. No one seems to know how Mukuro can worm his way into powerful organizations and businesses, learning things that should be the most closely guarded secrets- not yet at least. M.M. is fairly certain that it's only herself and a small amount of the Vongola for fairly obvious reasons. Well, and Mukuro's own group, of course. That should go without saying. Stepping over the body, M.M. leans against Mukuro's back with her elbow digging into his kidney. On purpose. Of course. "Find anything fun and interesting?" she asks, blowing into his ear so that his earring sways.