holycorruption asked for him too, so this is a two for one :P
My otp: AR/devil’s food, AR/sass and AR/Prince Chawlee My most hated pairing: AR/gambling (you have a PROBLEM) My unusual otp: eh I don’t really have one for him tbh My crossover otp: AR/bitchy high school girls because they could outsass each other all day, I just have a picture of modern AU AR driving around his prissy daughter and all her stuck up friends in a brand new Escalade and talking shit about everyone at the country club (you know you would all watch that) My brotp/friendship otp: AR/his boys, obviously. I love Team NY
(laughing because i don’t usually think in terms of happy, but rather less tragic, but—)
Fifty thousand dollars.
The swerve of black ink on the check propels a flutter of nervousness in the pit of her already-empty stomach, but Margaret manages a smile that’s all but hidden by the brim of her hat. Esther Randolph presses a napkin against the rim of her glass, wiping away the blood red lipstick stain, careful not to seem too interested in the opportunity before her client.
“Congratulations. And what will you do with it, out of curiosity?”
An advertisement just above the hotel across the street catches the younger woman’s eye, one citrus fruit kissing the other, a nonsensical gesture had it been another day. The corner of her mouth tugs upward as the phantom taste of oranges overwhelms her.
She’s heard California’s just beautiful this time of year.
At a certain point, they both start to realize she is going strangely hollow at the eyes and cheek. Charlie watches something killing them both, sneaks glances at her arms to look for matching track marks that he’ll never find. That’s not what this is
AR buys her new clothes and perfume. Can’t bring himself to give her jewelry. She wears them and she’s grateful and she smiles, but they don’t make her more beautiful as they once did. It becomes a struggle to look at her, waxen skin and protruding bones lit sickly by the beaded dresses.
"Maybe there’s just somethin’ wrong with your eyes, doc," Charlie insists, falsely offhand. He knows it’s been years since the Bankroll looked at himself.