[As Kiritsubo's voice continues to purr in his ear, Charlie lets his head lull back. The tacky disco ball he's hung in his room spins slowly, how little it does to liven up the space always an amusing little joke to him. His smile shifts, toying on his lips before he shuts his eyes.
This is a terrible bedtime story.
Charlie does not peddle flesh, but he has partaken. Once. It wasn't a particularly terrible exchange; he'd simply been more interested in kissing and talking than the woman getting on her knees to show a much younger man a 'good first time.'
A gift for him offered by older men in his syndicate.
Charlie is well aware of what happens when men have a monopoly on violence. He considers this part of the story silently, not for any remorse but acceptance. This is how the world has always worked. Five hundred years ago or now.]
So they grew up and got sold around. One of 'em get tired of it make a bloody scene? [This is the story of The Hell Courtesan,' after all...]
no subject
This is a terrible bedtime story.
Charlie does not peddle flesh, but he has partaken. Once. It wasn't a particularly terrible exchange; he'd simply been more interested in kissing and talking than the woman getting on her knees to show a much younger man a 'good first time.'
A gift for him offered by older men in his syndicate.
Charlie is well aware of what happens when men have a monopoly on violence. He considers this part of the story silently, not for any remorse but acceptance. This is how the world has always worked. Five hundred years ago or now.]
So they grew up and got sold around. One of 'em get tired of it make a bloody scene? [This is the story of The Hell Courtesan,' after all...]