suicidemission | OPEN RP

[ But of course. Who else could it possibly land on, dear Evelyn? No one else but Chuck and if his grin gets any wider it's going to break his face. ]

Well lookit that. [ He streeetches, arms over his head before he stands up and wiggles out from his spot at the table. ]

Shall we..? [ Is he offering a hand up? He's totally offering a hand up. ]

[If his grin gets any wider she's going to remove it from his face with her tiny fist.

While not yet reaching the point of fully-blown embarrassment - if anyone should be embarrassed it should be Chuck, who appears far too thrilled - Evelyn is grateful that she can excuse the heat in her cheeks with the alcohol she imbibed. Clearing her throat, chin up and looking for all the world like long-suffering royalty, Evelyn accepts his hand with tremendous dignity and stands.

Following him to the broom cupboard at a crowded party feels like some combination of receiving good news and going to the gallows at the same time.]

You seem pleased, [she observes with no small amount of suspicion.]

Why wouldn't I be?

[ He grins, leaning against the wall of the tiny room as the door slowly closes behind him. ]

C'mon love, it's not so bad, ay? Seven minutes in here with me...we can do anything.

Not anything,

[she points out with mild petulance, simultaneously rolling her eyes and being internally horrified she even said those words at all. The space is cramped enough that they're almost touching standing on opposite sides; Evelyn can already feel her cheeks getting hot.]

We could just...talk about the weather, o-or the new Dean at the school, or politics or-

[ His brows go up inch by inch as he listens, lips quirking in a half smile as she rambles on, until he's unable to take it. This requires initiative, he thinks, and he closes the small gap between them, tips her chin up with a finger, and presses his lips right to hers.

Enough. ]

[His interruption garners a small sound of surprise and he is far too near now, tastes like whisky, and the majority of her protests die on her lips where they meet his. Fingers unconsciously curling around the lapels of his jacket Evelyn's previous concerns are snapped in two as she pulls him closer.

When she does force herself to break away it is to nod breathlessly in agreement with Chuck's previous statement.]

You're right, anything.

[ He's dropping his hands down around her waist and tugging her close, a pleased little purr on his lips, thumbing at her shirt. ]

Anything at all, love.

[ He'll sweep in for another kiss if she'll let him, warm and tinged with alcohol and want. ]

[Anything at all is sounding incredibly tempting with his hands on her, flush against him and humming agreeably. Evelyn wishes there were a way she could get even closer, slipping her hands up to his shoulders and into his hair.]

Mhm.

[She even cranes up on tiptoe for another kiss.]

[ It's a bit difficult to not have his hands on her, right there at her waist, gently tugging her as close as he possibly can - closer, even. It's an impossible thing they want, but it doesn't stop them from trying.

And words, they're a waste of time. There's other things you can do to communicate - body language, that'd be one. And if he's reading hers right, then he reckons he'll get another kiss or so out of the deal, because hands in his hair make him tremble.

Another kiss is what she gets, soft and sweet before he nips at her lower lip, teases past her lips to suck on her tongue, a pleased little growl in his throat. ]

[Chuck's reading comprehension is excellent, small, desirous sounds pouring from his mouth into hers and the animal part of Evelyn that privately wanted this wishes they had longer than seven minutes at their disposal. Eager not to fall behind, she sighs against his lips as her fingernails curl in his hair.

(Arbitrarily, she also wishes that they weren't in a closet and perhaps somewhere more comfortable, but there may or may not be further kissing in their respective futures.)]

Chuck-

[She pulls him against her, backing up to the wall of the broom cupboard.]

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