houseofcards_rp | Never his decision to make

He's not liquored up, but Monty has downed a whiskey or two. Call it liquid courage, call it self-medication, but he's definitely at the Four Suits trying to figure out how the hell he got himself into this mess with Blythe when all he'd wanted to do from the beginning was spare her a broken heart. Strike that. He didn't break it, just tossed it on the ground and stomped all over it. Damned if he ain't three kinds of SOB. Blythe's a fine woman. She deserves a better man than him. And he's an arrogant SOB, too, 'cause that never was his decision to make. That choice belonged to Blythe.

His track record with women is lousy. He keeps it simple. He keeps it easy. No strings. No hard feelings. Fun and laughter and both happy to see each others back when it's time to go. Blythe isn't like that. Truth be told, once he'd realized Blythe was crushing on him he'd pulled back and friend zoned her quicker than a duck jumps on a June bug. His own attraction he'd wadded up and shoved aside 'cause no way, no how was he fixing to be Blythe's first broken heart. But 'pears that he just might have achieved that dubious honor. And wasn't that another choice he'd stolen away from her?

"Ah, hell," he mumbles and tosses back the last of his whiskey. "Ain't no way I'm leaving it like this." The walk to Heart Castle doesn't take long. Convincing Blythe to talk to him might take a bit longer.

[OOC: Blythe confessed feelings for Monty a few days ago, and he's finally decided to do something about it. This post is mainly for Blythe, but it's open to anyone who wants to catch him drinking or on his way to have things out with her.]

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Monty's far too smart to say something stupid like, "You're cute when you're angry," but she is at that, damn cute. Now if she'd learn to turn all that fire on her folks.

"I know all that, Blythe. People come here, they start over--or don't. You gotta trust sometime, but that don't mean you should assume what you see at face value is who someone is. People lie all the time. I lie." He shoves his fingers through his hair, leaving tufts standing straight up and sideways. "Blythe, I'm a con artist. I played the game and I got my good friends killed. Difference between you and me is you couldn't help what your folks or those bastard boys did to you, but every mess I made since I left home has been of my own making." He holds up his hand. "Hell, you're smart as a whip and I didn't even graduate high school."

Look at her standing there, eyes flashing, giving him what for like he's a puppy who made a mess on her fine new carpets, calling him five kinds of idiot--which he is. He flashes suddenly on Molly, a little taller, a little darker, but never one to put up with his BS. In the end, he'd broken her heart. Hell, in the end, he'd killed her. She was the one who'd told him to run, to live and not throw his life away trying to exact a vengeance that was doomed to failure. And he'd come here, kept his head low, and still somehow managed to make friends, come to care about people.

Come to care about Blythe.

Grab life and hang on for all its worth, Drew. You gotta live or none of this was worthwhile. He swears under his breath and collapses on the couch, hands cradeling his head. Molly'd be chewing him out right now, that's for damned sure.

"Little Bit, I'm 'bout the worst sort of fellow you could take up with. I drink, I swear, I don't mean to but I play around. I don't do it on purpose, I try, but I'm weak. Always have been.

"I ain't a forever kind of guy. You sure you got your heart set on this?"

She doesn't speak, even when he finally asks her a question, even as he collapses back onto her couch. Slowly, she approaches him again, sits directly in front of him on the coffee table, their knees knocking against each other. With careful hands, she reaches out to smooth down his hair first, as she tries to organize her thoughts.

"Monty. I used to... I used to be afraid of people like you. Not- not to say that you're a bad person, but... I used to be afraid of the guys who were on track to drop out of school and... I don't know, start a motorcycle gang or something. Those are the people who I used to have nightmares about and things like that. And- I don't know if you realize it, but... you changed that. And that was a big thing for me."

She takes a little breath, pulls her hands away to clasp them loosely in her lap. "And... I'm not exactly the best woman either. I'm... I mean, I'm childish, I ramble, I'm... far too much of a romantic. I'm... trying to get over it, but I'm insecure." Her lips twist ruefully as she looks up at him.

"But... I think I'm pretty secure about this. So... if you'd like to... then I'd like to spend less than forever with you." She's still absolutely serious, but. There's a familiar shyness to the way she holds her hands out to him.

He reads conviction in her eyes and prays to god he never replaces that with regret. She has such tiny hands--his own when they take them nearly swallow hers--but they're strong and calloused still from years and years of gymnastics, just like she is: strong and capable and maybe a little knocked around. Monty carries her hands to his lips and brushes a kiss across the knuckles of each hand, before turning them over and pressing his lips against her palms.

"Less than forever, then, though I reckon you ought to have your head examined to even entertain that notion."

Monty grows silent, studying her solemnly. They're neither one of them the same people they were back in September. He knows she's spread her wings and started to soar. As for himself, well, he don't know about flying, but he surely hopes he's become a better person.

Finally, he tucks both her hands in his left hand. Slowly, like he'd gentle an unbroken filly, he cups the nape of her neck with his right, leans in and kisses her.

The flush only grows to a healthy glow as he presses his lips to her fingers, slips a hand around her neck. But when he leans in, she freezes - just for a moment. Her heart is thudding in her chest, reverberating through her body, and she's sure the loud beats can be felt vibrating in the floor, just slightly. He presses her lips to hers, and even though she can see it coming, the inhale before they connect is definitely one of surprise.

Maybe she should get her head examined.

But after that moment, she kisses back, leaning into him gently. She shifts her hands, though, and he can easily tell how nervous she is through how tightly she squeezes his left hand. And then, she pulls one of her hands up to rest on his cheek. This... this is how you do this, right?

If Monty hears her heart thump-thump-thumping away, he ain't about to embarrass her by mentioning it. 'Sides, it's mighty cute--another word he knows not to use in Blythe's hearing. But that all implies he's thinking when it'd be a lie. The moment his lips touch hers, thought stops and sensation takes over. You only ever kiss a woman for the first time once. He makes it a practice not to ruin the moment by overthinking it. The fact that he's kissing a woman he actually cares about is all the more reason to pay attention.

He lets her go but only so he can cup her face properly in both hands. His fingers twine into the soft silk of her hair to tilt her face up so he can kiss her properly, firm and soft and gentle. Then he draws back, but only to take first her top lip, then her bottom between his own, to kiss her cheeks and, last, her eyelids.

She tips her cheek into Monty's hand, his rough palm feeling soothing more than anything against her skin. Her fingers clutch timidly at his shirt, curling into the fabric. As he pulls his lips away from hers, her breathing seems to be the loudest thing in the room, her exhales shaky and her inhales trembling. She tries to stay as still as possible when she feels him pressing such gentle, sweet kisses to her cheeks, her eyes.

But she can't help leaning forward afterwards, slipping off the coffee table, wrapping her arms around him and burying her face in his shoulder. Less than forever isn't specific at all. As much as she hates to admit it, this could be over much sooner than expected. She's agree to that, she knows... but she can't help wanting to keep him as close as possible for as long as she can. It's clingy behavior, she knows - but surely he'll grant her a couple of moments of curling up in his lap, listening to his heartbeat,

Never his decision to make

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