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Warning! mature scenes. michael is a big ole bully to venable in this one. it's complete filth.
"Ms. Venable," He smiled. "It's wonderful to see you again. Please, come in." Michael held out his arm, ushering the ginger woman in an unsettling, yet oddly welcoming gesture.
"I wish this visit would be in more...happy terms, Mr. Langdon." Venable stood tall, holding the top of her cane firmly. "Though, I must admit that finding my people spewed across the floor covered in their own piss and vomit wasn't the most exciting of events."
She hadn't forgotten about that night in the hall with Michael, nor would she ever. Frankly, it traumatized her, being belittled and bantered. He made her feel small, unneeded. Most of her life, she had always felt that way, being bullied in school, having no decent love life.
And, Michael had been right, because she was jealous. It just came out as hatred. Anastasia baffled her, and she was never able to understand it. From the moment she met her, she felt irritation, yet she was intrigued nevertheless. She thought she was beautiful, but completely hideous all at once. She could never decide if she wanted to hug her or to slit her throat. Both were very tempting thoughts.
And none of that had changed, because those thoughts still remained. She felt jealous for how loved she was, how much Michael cared for her. She found it extremely unfair. Why was love something that could never be brought to her?
Of course, she knew some of that was due to her own fault. She was cold, and made herself appear unloving, in attempt to ward away any potential suitors. She hadn't always been that way, though. The disgusting creatures of men had made her that way, however, so she eventually just gave up the idea of finding a partner.
Wilhemina wasn't even sure if she settled with a sexuality. There was never one specific gender she seemed to move towards, it just felt fluid. She never cared for terms, nor had time to deal with them. She didn't care.
Her eyes quickly swept over the room, finding it empty apart from Michael. "Ah, yes." He nodded, closing the door. "I apologize for not cleaning up my mess, but I prefer not to get my hands dirty. Besides, isn't this your outpost? I assumed that would be the way you would have wanted it." He smiled, folding his hands behind his back.
She gave a smirk. "Where's your bride? I was informed that there was a wedding."
He nodded, smiling again as he traveled across the room. "Yes, indeed there was. Don't feel bad about not getting an invitation, it was rather last minute. Besides, I had just gotten done fucking her." He sat behind his desk, resting his large hands on the table.
