animatedsmoke | (no subject)

(no subject)

Who: Potemkin, Venom
What: Potemkin and Venom meet in a gay bar
When: Sometime before Xrd when things start to get sad
Where: Bars are international

This place keeps the lights dim enough that all the figures inside become crushed into its darkness, and Potemkin looks so much like a comfortable regular not even he stands out. If it wasn't for being completely unique, he could pass for any big guy who likes to take a seat and some time with a shot of whiskey at the end of a long day.

Why Potemkin comes here specifically is an open question, but for whatever reason he holds this place suits them, so he's fine visiting this bar. Alone. Given the friendliness of the other patrons he really shouldn't have expected to not be interrupted for conversation eventually.

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With the Guild struggling and Lord Zato gone, Venom tried his best to carry on. It had been years, and with age, the assassin leader became a bit bitter. He tried to remain loyal, he really did, but solitude wasn't cutting it anymore.

That's why he's been coming to this bar. He had to be around people that weren't assassins. People who could be potential partners. Namely men who showered attention upon him. He never thought much about his appearance until a few guys whispered sweet words into his ear over free drinks. Perhaps tonight will be the same.

Dressed in something professional yet a bit more relaxed than usual, he approaches the bar, noting a large figure a few seats over. It couldn't be... could it?

Curious, he buys the man a refill on his whiskey and takes a seat next to him.

"I didn't expect to find you in a place like this."

Potemkin's eyes go to the miraculously refilling glass on the counter before he looks up at its cause, which shocks him even more. Potemkin is smart enough to know that explaining himself would just come off as desperate, so he moves on rather than elaborate.

"Hmmrph. Consider that 'special knowledge', Guildmaster."

In other words, what happens here stays here.

Guildmaster? Venom can't fault Potemkin for cordiality, but since both of them are off the job, he quietly takes that bit to heart.

"Understood, and since this is 'special knowledge', you can call me Venom." Soon the bartender brings a brandy to the assassin, the choice beverage of his lost master.

He tucks his hair away as he sips on the strong drink, trying to remain stoic as the liquor burns his throat.

"Venom," Potemkin says that name like he's feeling it out, not quite friendly but at least showing that he's willing to give him attention.

"I see I don't need to give an introduction," Potemkin follows up, considering he was the one approached. He turns to his side and watches Venom drink with a little curiosity. "Is that what you have to do every time?" Potemkin believes he sees people for their true character, but he never considered the personal life of an assassin.

Venom doesn't seem to mind the not-so-friendly tone. The deep resonance in his voice makes up for it. He takes another sip of brandy, letting the alcohol loosen him up. If he was on the job, he wouldn't allow himself to get even this remotely comfortable, but he needs it.

"If I was meeting with a client, yes. But here, I'm doing it to be polite." And Potemkin didn't need any introduction. Venom had ties to Zepp thanks to Lord Slayer's bizarre friendship with President Gabriel. He didn't know the exact details there, but it was... something.

"Potemkin, correct?"

"Correct," Potemkin confirms, quickly and modestly. Potemkin doesn't verbalize his pride, but there's no need to. The man carries it in everything he does, from his slow gestures to his deliberate posture, always holding back on how much bulk he really has.

Potemkin lifts his own glass, which is now replenished. "Did you want someone to talk to while you finish your brandy?" Potemkin questions the reasons for his generosity.

"You could say that, yes." Venom's visible eye's been taking in every inch of Potemkin's frame as they spoke. The outfit's changed, but the larger man still has the air of a loyal soldier. That in itself is rather attractive, though Venom's curious about the other's size in different places.

The bartender's already getting a second glass for Venom poured as he downs the last bit from the snifter. He figures he'll get used to the brandy. Eventually.

"How often have you been coming here?"

Potemkin notices that despite Venom's ongoing professionalism, he's more affected by things than he would expect, like the liquor making him subtly grit his jaw. It makes him seem surprisingly young and small. It makes it hard to not take Venom as honest after all.

But despite the temptation to open up, that's another question he knows is dangerous to answer straight. Or at least would cause some ribbing if word out to the rest of his regiment.

"I've never seen you before, so apparently not on those nights."

It's a response Venom doesn't quite expect. Granted, he's only been here once before, as a teenage assassin briefly searching for himself, but it feels more welcoming than it did before. Maybe it's the connections it had to the Guild, or maybe the brandy is just that good.

"Fair enough. And I take it you just come here to enjoy the bar menu? I admit it's rather extensive." He might just switch over to something softer after he finishes his current drink. If he can finish it.

"I wouldn't say it's up to that alone," Potemkin says without really denying that the selection is a perk. "This establishment has an atmosphere that makes it easy to relax," Potemkin puts it down to a matter of the sum of its parts. The people, decor, or staff are pointless to pinpoint out.

"Isn't that what everyone comes for?" Potemkin assumes, thinks that there's an understanding between them that both of them are men with hard devotions to their work.

"I suppose so, though I could think of other reasons." What those reasons are seem rather inappropriate at the moment. At least to a relatively new acquaintance such as Potemkin.

"May I get you another drink?" Lo and behold, Venom's managed to finish off his brandy.

"Depends. I would be fine with that, but I don't know much longer you're going to be able to sit straight," Potemkin compares the time of an additional glass of whiskey to how much more alcohol would enter Venom's system during that interval.

"I'll be fine." He says while he's clearly a little tipsy. He beckons for one more refill on Potemkin's drink before getting something a little lighter.

As for the sitting straight part, he huffs and gets up from his seat, going to one of the open couches. And the way he sits is quite... provocative.

When Potemkin really disagrees with that, he'll forcibly state his opinion. But for now he's going to pick up his paid-for drink while tracking Venom's passive-aggressive move to the couch.

He doesn't respond to the petulance (Potemkin never does), but Potemkin already took just a little look at his butt while taking note of his posture at the barstool. Being shown so much more makes Potemkin quickly turn to his whiskey for something to do, and he puts his mouth on the rim than say anything.

Venom's not usually the type to invoke reaction, but thanks to the couple of drinks, he wants to get something out of the soldier. It might not happen, but assassins don't give up easily.

"Won't you join me over here? There's much more room." Then his third drink arrives, and while it's lighter, it's still affects him. More of his hair's tucked away while he offers something that's extremely rare:

a smile.

"Please?"

Potemkin hangs back on his barstool, but his attention is entirely on Venom. He's watching how he acts, even if he hasn't given in yet.

"I don't think I'll fit," Potemkin states. It'll be a very uneven seat if Potemkin squeezed in.

Huff. Potemkin is very large, but even he can sit on this generous couch, even if Venom has to give up his spot.

Which he does. All while doing his best to retain coherency and balance. No tripping whatsoever.

"Now you can fit. You have all the room you wish."

Potemkin stares blankly at the empty couch, surprised that Venom was willing to go far enough to move. His gaze fixes itself to Venom next, making eye contact with the man standing by him.

"If you want space for both us, it would be better to simply go to a more appropriate room," Potemkin drops like it's nothing at all, only a suggestion of efficiency. But now Potemkin is the one pushing on.

It made sense to Venom, seeing that the couch, while generous, couldn't fit both of them. And a separate room would give them a bit more privacy along with a larger couch.

"Well then. Please lead the way." Venom's keeping his neutral stance with hands behind his back. It betrays his thoughts, which are focused on exploring the other with more than just his eyes.

Potemkin slides off his barstool with a heavy noise as his feet touch the ground. With Venom following, he takes a short walk to a hotel which is practically neighbors with the bar they just left, and its placement is no coincidence.

After grabbing the keys at the desk, Potemkin takes looks behind him repeatedly to check on Venom, making sure that he has enough balance to walk up stairs.

But Potemkin is at the door with no problems, and the room Potemkin requested does have more than one couch.

The soldier is quite the resourceful one, going for a hotel room as opposed to one of those cramped private rooms at the bar. Venom has no trouble climbing the stairs, though there are times when he stops briefly to get his balance back in order.

When they get inside the room, Venom's rather surprised at the size, considering it has more than one couch. But the assassin's more interested in the bed, as he's already heading towards it, sitting down on the edge.

Potemkin went through all that effort to find a couch, and Venom's already lost interest in it. Not that Potemkin is paying attention to it either, eyes following Venom sitting on the bed.

"Calling it a night?"

"Hardly."

The couches aren't lost on him, and Potemkin did go through all this trouble. Maybe they can utilize both tonight. Venom stands up to the much taller man, the alcohol fueling this surge of bravery. Then he gently nudges that massive chest with his hands, like he was not-so-subtly telling him to take a seat on the couch.

Venom's hands sink into the soft muscle of Potemkin's pectorals, which move and bend compared to how hard set Potemkin's face is, eyes fixed on Venom's and his jaw locked. While staring at him the entire time, he sits, obviously not pushed to do that. He falls backwards into a couch just so that he doesn't have to turn.

"So in this case it looks that you intend to keep your word," Potemkin says as he lifts his arm, as if to beckon him very directly, the waving on his arm so enclosing it's close to wrapping around Venom's back.

"Yes."

Potemkin doesn't even have to beckon. Venom's already invading more of his personal space, straddling the large man's lap and leaving his hands on that very broad chest. And it is a rather nice chest at that.

He's just going to explore a little, his gloved fingers tracing the fabric and the hidden muscle underneath.