[ P ] You'll love to hate me

your veins are full of ice-water

The last of whatever of the wolves that deemed themselves "the important ones" had all shuffled out of his foyer and out the door. Smoke and whiskey was still ever present from the meeting that turned from a political gathering to a "whose richer than who" snob fest. Although they were all supposed to hold a strong tie to one another, they all disbanded and ignored that tie as they congregated in their own little groups of threes and fours, mingling amongst one another. Augustine was at the heart of each little clique they seemed to form in his home that he so graciously invited them in to time and time again. He'd grown accustomed to playing host, he almost came to love it- if it werent for the careful steps he needed to take around the snakes and the hushed words he needed to speak away from ears searching for anything worth carrying on in a whisper. Somewhere, his wife was tending to the ladies they all brought along with them, likely filling their cups-and her own- and dancing the night away. If it wasn't for the prying eyes that watched him throughout the night, he would have slipped away to join her, and perhaps and even whisk her away from every pair of eyes in their home. But, he continued shuffling about the guests he had in his company. It always seemed to take longer for his guests to leave than it did for them to arrive. His patience was at bay still, luckily, the whiskey in his system threatening to wash what remained of said pateince away. However, when the last body was shuffling out of his home, it was already beginning to replenish. As he shut the door infront of him, his mismatched hues would trace the path he watched Senka make back into their home. A soft twitch of his tassle displayed a short moment of contemplation: to find his wife, and end their night on a good note, or carry on with the next thing on his agenda? A sneer would twist his lips just so, distaste almost as heavy as the whiskey that left his lips as he gave an exhale in his decision- the one he didn't want to make, but needed to. Just as his guests were arriving, he sent one of the secretaries off to find Baptista. He was never hard to find- where Bap was, trouble followed. By the time he was found, he'd be on his way here and arrive just in time to see the last guest out the door, if any at all. Augustine awaited his arrival, with all intent of having just a few more drinks while his brother paid him a long overdue visit. He waited, rather patiently, his muzzle entertaining the thought of already indulging in his next drink without Bap. How rude of him, though, to start.. more drinking, before his guest arrived. A nail would softly tick the stone surface beneath his paw, keeping his mind focused on the points he planned to hit at some point during his conversation with his younger brother. "Sed vel nisl erat. Quisque interdum risus turpis, vel euismod velit molestie sed."

code & art

his grin was always halfway a smile—

Baptista does not like to be summoned. From his father, it had been an unfortunate but necessary evil, and one that he respected; from his brother, it simply rubs him wrong. There had been a time when Augustine would find him on his own, and they might share a drink together before returning to the musty stone walls of their home, and their father's office. Now, some pageboy or another is sent to retrieve him, and this one is too much of a sniveling fool to even manage to set paw inside. Baptista has earned his seat in this bar, and his noble title holds no bearing here—but it is still his, and so he must answer when called.

He is slow to set down what remains of his drink when a patron kind enough to indulge the secretary informs him that he is being looked for; Baptista is slower yet to nudge away the girl who had been cozying up to him, barely withholding a sigh. "Another time," he promises with an easy wink that betrays the irritation flaring in his chest. Making his way to the exit, his demeanor towards his brother's secretary is notably less friendly. "Yes?" Baptista grits out, his lips settling into a fine line as the message is relayed. He dismisses the wolf with a jerk of his chin, and then disappears back inside to finish his drink.

Then he has another.

Baptista delays just enough that he knows Augustine will notice. He wants his brother to notice, though he isn't quite certain why he's so eager to get a rise out of him. He supposes he would prefer anything other than the aristocrat he is trapped with now, who sees his younger brother's antics as a thorn in his side rather than charming or funny. Augustine had always been the more serious of them, but even so, he had been certain that his brother loved him unconditionally.

Now, there are conditions.

Baptista would prefer not to conform to them.

When he enters the building, he is grateful for one thing: Augustine is not in the office. Baptista will never say it, but he hates seeing his brother in that office, behind that desk, in the seat their father sat in. He releases a low breath when he finds the older male waiting for him in the foyer, and then offers a slight tilt of his skull and a tight-lipped smile. "Brother," Baptista greets neutrally, and though he'd slowed as he passed beneath the doorframe, he had not stopped; rather, he continues past Augustine and across the room to the bar, taking note of his sibling's already-damp glass with a soft huff of a laugh.

He refills Augustine's drink and pours one for himself, leaning onto his haunches across the bar from his brother. Nudging the glass across the worn wooden surface, he eyes the other male over the rim of his own, a brow quirked inquisitorially. Whatever his kin has called him for, Baptista is certain that he won't disappoint. Augustine never has been the sort for half-measures.

—and halfway a threat

code // art

your veins are full of ice-water

Time: it was endless and plentiful, for most, that is. Time was something Augustine never took for granted, each second that passed there was something that could be done. Each hour could easily be slotted for the tasks at hand. And here he was, waiting as time ticked by. This was planned, expected. Which is why August timed his invite to his brother just so- he had no other business to tend to this late, leaving plenty of time for Baptista to dilly-dally and delay. Though, in the back of his mind, he had other ways he'd much rather spend the rest of his night- and every which way he conjured up in his mind, all of them involved silken bed sheets and Senka. He regretted the time apart they spent tonight, though he fully intended on making up for it after his sorted out the Baptista situation he held in his paws. Irritation would settle into his body the longer time ticked, all too eager to get this over and done with. But Bap needed to be present in order to do that. As he began to turn toward the direction of their bedroom, the sound of paws on stone would pull his harks in the direction of the footsteps. Brows would furrow until he heard a single word fall from his brother's mouth. A simple, quick greeting. Augustine'a plume was fast behind as he would spin himself around, following right before Bap. He would move to catch his drink, and all at the time he would raise a short and small toast to his brother before him. There was a seriousness that lingered around the man swept over by the ocean herself, but It was quick to fade as he moved his muzzle to the fresh glass. "Baptista, little brother, im glad you decided to join me! he would boom, the whiskey was laced too tight around tongue, and so every word that would fall from kissers here on out would be spoken with out filter, without regard. A paw would wave to the man filling the drinks for the night, shooong him away kindly, but not before grabbing at the whiskey he was working to put away. "we can take care of this, good lad. " he would present the booze to his brother, sliding it half way down the bar between the two of them. "we havent shared a few drinks in quite some time it would seem, brother dearest. he would boom yet again, this time a chuckle was entangled in his chords. "Sed vel nisl erat. Quisque interdum risus turpis, vel euismod velit molestie sed."

code & art

his grin was always halfway a smile—

That brow arches ever higher, and his gaze is intent on Augustine, never straying. "I wasn't aware that this meeting was optional," he returns, his voice considerably less jubilant than his sibling's. It is not often that August is so...boisterous, and it puts Baptista in a state of unease—though the only outward sign is the slight raising of the hairs on the back of his neck. If his brother is as inebriated as he suspects, it will go unnoticed. Slowly, the pale wolf sets his glass down without having yet taken a sip, his mismatched eyes fixated on the pretentious features of his brother's too-happy face.

"You're drunk," Baptista comments flatly, though the comment lacks any noteworthy threads of judgement. It is an observation, and one that sets the gears of his too-sober mind grinding. He suspects that his brother does not think this meeting will go well, which means that Baptista is not going to like what he has to say. A long sigh drifts from between his jaws, and then the younger sibling repossesses his glass and drains it one go, dropping it back onto the counter with a soft clatter before immediately refilling it.

He drains that glass, too.

Perhaps it would be wiser for one of them to stay relatively sober, but Baptista has never been the most responsible of the pair, and he's hardly about to start now. "Out with it, then," he prompts with an idle tilt of his skull; already, the burn has settled comfortably in his stomach, and his posture is more relaxed than it was a few minutes ago. All the same, Baptista remains wary and on edge; he side-eyes the bottle of whiskey and wonders how many glasses he truly needs for whatever conversation is to follow.

—and halfway a threat

code // art

your veins are full of ice-water

Smart the boy was, in this instance atleast. "Well, if you'd taken just a second longer, i was almost headed to my pillows. " he would exhale slowly, the drink before him given a small swirl with a his claw. He would almsot hesitate, before pulling himself to all fours and wandering closer to his little brother. He wasn't invading his personal space, but he closes the gap considerably. His focus was on the next drink to be poured, until Bap pointed out the obvious. "Drunk?! Hardly: i am-- relieved! I am, tired. I am, blessed with Baptista's presense! How hard it is to wrangle you up from your.. hobbies. " he would chuckle, topping off his own glass before mismatched hues would fall to Bap. All too easily did the boy down what was offered, surely giving himself more comfort in the situation at hand. "out with what, bap?" he questioned, a look of concern plastered across his face, until a slight smirk lay easily across the corners of his lips. "What has the youngest of us Scowcrofts been up to lately, hm? " he glided over his brother's very strong approach to getting Augustine's agenda to unfold before him . He already knew what the boy had been up to and where, and when. He had eyes, eyes that he paid rather good coin for to keep any eye on Baptista and his extra curricular activities that could possibly paint the Scowcroft's name black and damn them all to a life that lacked the luxuries they had now. "Sed vel nisl erat. Quisque interdum risus turpis, vel euismod velit molestie sed."

code & art

his grin was always halfway a smile—

"A choice your wife would have preferred, I'm certain. How fortunate for me that you've chosen my company instead," Baptista drawls; unlike his brother, he is not a joyous drunk—or perhaps his leery mood has soured his ability to enjoy it—but his tongue has undoubtedly loosened all the same. He even offers Augustine a simper that flashes teeth, though he cannot yet bring himself to laugh. There is, perhaps, not enough liquor in the room for that at the moment. His sibling goes on, crowing about having an iota of Baptista's time, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes, though he does allow a soft huff to slip from his jaws. "Am I such a rarity these days?" he muses, and the smile that crosses his face is almost sad—and definitely thoughtful.

Who could blame him, truly, for avoiding the ghosts of this house?

One of them is still breathing, and Baptista avoids her more than he should.

It's selfish of him, in hindsight. Augustine does not have the luxury of abandoning these halls whenever he pleases; he must live within close proximity of his demons, who no doubt lurk over his shoulder every time he sits at that damned desk. Baptista, on the other paw, runs far from his. And tonight, the drink chases them further, until he doesn't think of their father at all.

Augustine's easy, sly smirk is followed by a question that is as innocently worded as it is barbed—a double edged sword, and one he is no doubt intended to fall upon. Slowly, Baptista returns his brother's wry expression, a glint of amusement sparking in his eyes as his head tilts critically to the side. "Do you want the honest answer?" he queries with a pointed arch of his brow, a faint thread of mischief lingering in his tone. Baptista leans across the bar then, foregoing his drink to swallow the space between them before he whispers conspiratorially, "remember that you're not liable for what you don't know." A promise, a threat, or a game—he knows he's as good as provoking his brother, and Baptista is willing enough to engage in the russian roulette of uncertainty.

Whether Augustine pulls the trigger is up to him.

—and halfway a threat

code // art

your veins are full of ice-water

He didn't choose Baptista's company directly, it wasn't a choice as much as it was a another item on his checklist. He wanted to have some sort of decent time spent between the two of them before Augustine pulled back the curtains on his true intentions. "Fortunate indeed, little brother. " a liquor laced tone would hum with a breath meant to go down before his drink did. Carefully and slowly does the eldest choose his next actions and words, his brother's expressions changing much like the wind of the raging seas, almost unpredictable. Such unpredictability threatened Augustine's own demeanor, he was as calm as could be for the time being, but so easily could his trigger be pulled by the all too giddy finger that his brother held that trigger with. "Honesty saves everyone time, brother. he mused, a rolling of his head would allow mismatched hues to glance at his brother who was now leaning across the bar. His own ears would peel back slowly, a small grin forming in a jagged line across his lips with a crinkle in his snout. "There is only very little i wouldnt be liable for then, Baptista." he stifled a snarl that churned in the depths of his chest. His glass was still half full while he stated at his beverage, simmering the more heated words that fought to spill from his tongue. "The bars, i dont give two shits about. I should- but i dont. The whores, i also dont give a shit about- whatever tickles your fancy little brother. a wet ribbon would trace across his teeth as his plume ticked. "But your carelessness in the eye of the public is what i cannot tolerate- what this family cannot tolerate." a scoff fell from now parted lips. "And heaven help us all if your more.. private endeavors are ever discovered by anyone looking for their window to strike us down." a painted face would glance up from his glass, searching for his brother's new expression. "But- you know better than to let that happen, i assume? " "Sed vel nisl erat. Quisque interdum risus turpis, vel euismod velit molestie sed."

code & art

his grin was always halfway a smile—

Unlike his brother, Baptista has an abundance of time.

Perhaps this is why he is so willing to waste it, whilst Augustine is not; he stifles the thought that reminds him how he misses the days when his kin was more indulgent. Though never so...errant as the younger of the pair, they'd had their fair share of fun together over the years. Much as he expected, he can see the remaining patience slipping from Augustine's grasp—he is so very close to the edge that Baptista is certain he would topple with little more than a nudge.

He refrains.

Instead, Baptista waits. Whilst his brother's mood sours with every word that drips from his tongue, his own vague sense of amusement grows; he watches the darker wolf with mirth in his eyes. He only just manages to keep himself from repeating a mockery of the elder Scowcroft's words—heaven help us. He sounds like their father. Somehow, Baptista withholds his scoff.

Finally, Augustine levels his gaze back on him, and Baptista's faint simper grows, his head tilting to the side. He is quiet for a heavy moment as he leans back, once again out of his brother's reach, and raises a forepaw conversationally. "I'm certain I don't know what you're talking about, August," he states casually. He offers a simper with a flash of teeth, and then, "surely you aren't suggesting I would do anything to sully our good name." Whilst there is little doubting that they are both aware that Baptista indulges in...uncouth behaviors behind closed doors, there is much that Augustine must leave to speculation. Baptista keeps his more lucrative affairs private, and with good reason; he is rather fond of his family's estate and finances—and the luxuries they provide.

Baptista would be hard-pressed to sacrifice his status without cause, and Augustine knows it. It is the greatest reason, perhaps, that he heeds his brother's command—for the most part, anyway. He could try harder, but where would the fun be in that?

—and halfway a threat

code // art

your veins are full of ice-water

The booze was heavy on the man; his breath, his thoughts, his words, and his ability to hold his composure for much longer. With each word that Baptista slicked past his lips, Augustine's own face would twitch and tick. If he were sober, he might let his brother get away with simply claiming his false innocence. Unfortunately, the whiskey he soaked himself in would urge Augustine to choose otherwise. He would dismiss his brother's words at first, a click of his tongue would trigger his crown to roll as a breath was inhaled. His mismatched hues fell heavily, in sync with the breath he took. "Hmm, im not suggesting anything. " he would chuckle. What a funny little foreshadow on his intentions for their meeting. His eyes pulled open, while his limbs pulled him up and away from the bar. He would gather what was left of his beverage and carry it with him, his paws shuffling him towards a small table with a few pieces of parchment and a stack of pieced together books. "I do not suggest anything, ever. Espcially when it comes to you, brother." he gave a soft smile as his gems traveled up from his small collection and fell across Baptista. "And so, to ensure that you continue to refrain from adding any blemishes to our name, ive blessed you with a rather helpful tool:" he would cock a brow slightly, his pearly whites flashing with amusement as he let a small bit of anticipation build. "A wife." the second he finished his sentence, he would remind himself to prepare for backlash, be it physical or verbal. His brother was far from wedding someone of his own taste, and fortunately for Augustine, that left the eldest Scowcroft to make arrangements himself. " Your presence and cooperation at your engagemnt party, that is being hosted here, will be required- if only long enough to show a crowd that you have infact settled into being.. a functional adult in this society-look in love, whatever you need you need to do. " he would speak plainly and fast, not wanting to let his brother interrupt him should he find the correct tone to do so. "Sed vel nisl erat. Quisque interdum risus turpis, vel euismod velit molestie sed."

code & art

his grin was always halfway a smile—

There it is: the flip of the switch.

Baptista can see it the moment his brother's face shutters—signifying that whatever game they have been playing up until now has concluded. He has the sinking, grating feeling that Augustine is about to show his hand, and that he has lost. He watches his sibling prowl over to his accumulated parchments and books, his gaze warily intent upon the mottled wolf as his ears cant back slightly against his skull in a symptom of his wariness.

He waits, biting his tongue and biding his time, as Augustine launches into what is no doubt a prepared spiel. He will not have Baptista tarnish their name; there is a leash that he has reached the end of, and his brother is about to pull it taut. Augustine flashes him a sickly-sweet simper before revealing the gift he has procured for his younger sibling; Baptista's eyes widen for a moment, and then his jaw clenches. A wife will severely hinder his extracurricular activities, and the mayor knows it. Evidently, he would rather pass the leash on to someone else.

Baptista makes no effort to interrupt, but mulls over Augustine's demands with a look of irritation growing on his face—a muscle ticking in his jaw. He allows the silence to settle for a heavy moment when his brother is done, tapping a nail methodically against the edge of his glass before he finally speaks. "A wife," Baptista repeats slowly, carefully, and he manages to keep his tone even despite his mounting frustration.

"Whatever you need me to do, you mean," he corrects flatly, his narrowed eyes settled firmly upon his brother's proud features. Oh, Augustine has certainly won—and Baptista is something of a sore loser. "Who is she?" he demands, his tone increasing in volume and growing more harsh. Baptista has no doubt that his brother has made the arrangements ahead of this meeting—to refuse would cause a scandal; Baptista must play what few cards he has left carefully.

Augustine might eagerly saddle him with this fate, but he intends to make the most of it—one way or another.

—and halfway a threat

code // art