#venus flytrap is my new official fave way of describing millie

[hoggleswart]

one  perfectly  -  manicured  finger  gently  circles  the  rim  of  half  -  empty  wine  glass.  it’s  a  slow  and  precise  movement,  contemplative  even,  while  gaze  continues  to  scan  surrounding  crowd  with  the  kinda  look  that  can  only  be  described  as  ill  intent.    ⸻    like  a  hunter  seeking  out  its  prey.  ＂  the  man  in  the  red  looks  a  little  too  happy  for  my  taste.  it  might  be  fun  to  burst  his  bubble.  ＂  one  of  life’s  greatest  pleasures,  in  their  opinion.  eyes  soon  blink  back  towards  tempest,  however,  and  the  slight  curl  of  lip  can  surely  only  mean  trouble  as  fresh  thought  settles.  ＂  but  then    .  .  .    i  can’t  help  notice  you  haven’t  complimented  how  nice  my  hair  looks  today.  ＂  they  pout,  as  if  truly  saddened  by  the  lack  of  praise.  ＂  and  not  one  word  about  my  outfit  either.  i’ve  tortured  people  for  less.  ＂

venus flytrap thoughts aside, it is fascinating to watch millicent. as if through patient attention a puzzle could be truly solved. tempest would typically prefer to be observing from afar for this particular subject, not too keen on getting the up-close personal look, but the situation had taken what it needed without asking for her opinion. today feels as though it's one of those days they hold their hand out over the flame and only flinch back when it starts to burn : and who would they be if they didn't push their luck here? if they heard a doorway begging to be pried open and didn't respond in kind? they chuckle, and it's dry more than anything, taking a moment to run their gaze over millie's face, watching them survey the crowd. "never too late for a new grudge. anyone in particular catch your eye?" they tap the galleon twisting through their fingers against the knarled wood of the table twice in succession.