𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐇 𖤓 - 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐧.

EÍKOSI DÝO.

SNITCH
noun [ C ]
UK / 'snɪt / US / 'snɪt /
"A PERSON WHO SECRETLY INFORMS A HIGHER SITUATIONAL AUTHORITY THAT SOMEONE HAS COMMITTED A WRONGFUL ACT."
• • •
'an unsolicited liar.'

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SNITCHES GET STITCHES.

-

"Oliver, I've found-," Venetia re-emerges inside the pool house, scavenging an adequate variation of sleeping medication and pain reducing medicine.

She stopped in her tracks, eyeing up the scattered smithereens of their father's costly whiskey glasses across the floor - making her behead her sentence.

She sighed loudly at the mess, a hand being raised to place onto her hip.

"Felix?," She accused, knowing her brother far too thoroughly - and, it couldn't have been Farleigh.

Farleigh despises whiskey.

He's more of a wine person.

"Indeed it was." Farleigh rolled his eyes, still struggling to pile up the shards into a dustpan and brush, "This is the only time you'll ever see me on my knees."

With this remark, Lyssa noticed Oliver and Farleigh catch eachothers' eye - Farleigh then proceeding to clear his throat, that otherwise sounded crystal clear when he last spoke.

"Sorry." Was all Felix could mutter, as his offer to help clean up was once again denied by Farleigh's proudness.

He probably felt heroic and utterly charitable for cleaning up at all - for that was a foreign concept to these kinds of people.

"Farleigh, you're doing it wrong-," Venetia placed the boxes of medication on the centre table, with Oliver reaching over from his seat on the sofa to examine each one.

She took the dustpan and brush from Farleigh, earning her a judgemental look from his end.

"You have to pick up the largest shards first." She instructed, beginning to carefully retrieve the greater chunks of the glass.

"Fine - you do it, then." Fairleigh gave in, knowing Venetia had a very specific order of doing things, and he could never perform up to her standards.

Ignoring his snark, Venetia continued manhandling the pointy residue of Felix's drink, wiping her whiskey-soaked hands on her pyjamas nonchalantly.

Farleigh attempted to shuffle behind Venetia, between the small gap of the table and the sofa, where her body was an obstacle.

Instead of Farleigh vocally excusing himself or asking Venetia to move so he could get past for a second, he instead tried to shove his way past.

Being the underhand amongst entitlement hurts.

Literally.

Because as he did this, he lost his balance - his hand automatically reaching for Venetia's shoulder blade as the nearest support.

As his hand implanted itself, the force pushed Venetia's left shoulder on a downwards slope - the sudden force travelling down her entire arm and impaling her palm into a shard of glass.

As quickly as Farleigh regained his balance and rushed out of the slim passage, Venetia's hand began to exude blood.

A large gauge was all that was left of Farleigh's foolish and inconsiderate action, and an alarming exclaim from Venetia once she'd realised.