Remember to breathe, Tagged ;; Scarlette

[Scarlette Perdida]

Scarlette's expression hardened and she let her gaze fall away from his face. Why did he always make things so bloody complicated? It seemed like they couldn't have a single conversation without him turning it into some sort of highly emotional scene reminiscent of a teen drama series. And of course he was the main character. Which made her the whiny, neurotic girl who eventually dies.
"Jesus Christ," she thought to herself. "I'm Mischa Barton."
Well that was something she definitely wasn't going to stand for. She pushed her chair backwards, distancing herself from him, both physically and emotionally.
"Well screw this..." she muttered under her breath, her eyes darkening with frustration.
"Fine then. I don't want to know. You make too big a deal out of these things anyway. You don't seem to realize that what you're going through is normal. Yes, you're on drugs, yes, you're a manwhore, but so are a lot of people. You're just conforming, like everybody else. You put too much importance on yourself, honey, you're not all that special," Scar suddenly let rip, exuding bitterness with every syllable. She wasn't shouting though, she just spoke normally, analytically, still with her eyes fixed on the ground. She wouldn't have been able to say it if she had been looking into his eyes. Even now she wouldn't look up, knowing that when she did she would feel insufferably guilty. She tried not to care though. It was about time someone set him straight.

(Ooc: Woo! I'm back. With a vengeance!)

[Casimir Japhis]

Casimir listened to her speak. He had wondered how long it would take her before she basically spilt out her soul and her anger towards him. Finally. He had waited for quite some time for this. And he was loving it. Once she had finished, Casimir merely raised an eyebrow, a bemused smile playing on his lips. "Congratulations, Scar," he said in a soft, amused voice. "You're first to realise that. Wow. How long has it taken you? Congratulations, once again." He shook his head and got to his feet, putting his hand on Scarlette's shoulder. "I've known that I wasn't special for very long. But what I like is that you people make me special. And I like being the centre of attention and drama. Really, I'm your creation." He told her, an expression of mockery and amusement on his face. "Does that make sense, Scar?" he whispered and then leant forward, put his lips on her, kissing her softly and then before she could do anything, he moved away and patted her on the back. "Well done, Sherlock."