Angel Dust

There a childish thrill at seeing that joint back between Valentino's lips, like they've shared a kiss without touching. How he'd like to follow after that bit of paper and taste those lips properly. The smirk only fuels Anthony's hope that Val's fee is going to be a taste for himself.

His breath catches, that pink flush spreading. He's not sure what he's been called, but Val makes it sound beautiful.

But he doesn't take. Doesn't claim. And Anthony gives a flustered laugh, gaze ducking.

"...yes, Mista' Valentino," he recites, hastily reorienting himself. A few more clothes, toiletries, an old cigar box he keeps a few photos and an extra stash in. He's not sure how long he'll be gone, but it ain't like he can't swing across town if he needs something. Or Molly can bring it round.

"He tell you how long you're stuck with me? Or that depend on me?"