C5
"Breakfast is at nine o'clock, Vincent. Why don't you join the girls in the dining hall then?" This was a dismissal, he didn't like hearing it from her, but he shrugged. "Yeah, okay," He took his glass and left.
C4
"Maybe you wouldn't have heard anything, if only you got a little more sleep," Vince put emphasis on the word, still smiling at her. Cinderella slammed her hand down on the table. The spoon tinked around the bowl, a splash of chocolate colored milk onto the wood. Vince leaned back, startled by her reaction. She had heard his side of the sex, he was uncontrollably expounding on the divine. Cinderella cleared her throat, and withdrew her hand. Composing herself, although she had never looked away.
C3
She glared at him. "Shut up. And leave me alone," Vincent smiled as he raised the orange juice to his lips. It was acidic, and not too sweet. It was good. "What's wrong, Cinder? Not a morning person?" He asked, setting his cup down. "I heard you last night. My room's right across the way, could you please try to keep it down?" She demanded angrily. Disgust, and palpable loathing. Was he really that loud? His Mistress was too good.
C2
He pulled it out, the glass was icy cold. "Get a cup," Cinderella interjected, not looking up. Vince scratched his stomach, the black hair above his sleeper bottoms. He could pull them up a bit, so that he wasn't so exposed, but he really didn't care. From one of the cupboards he took a cup out, then joined her at the table. The cereal blocked his view of her as he poured himself a drink. Cocoa Puffs, a chocolate cereal. "i've never seen you eat before," Vince started, tapping the box aside.
Compulsion
Vince yawned loudly as he walked into the kitchen. To his surprise, Cinderella was sitting at the small table that was now placed against the wall, and she was eating. Maybe Lyn had already talked to her. Vince didn't think it was possible for a person to eat while they were high on meth, he certainly couldn't. Reading the cereal box in front of her, she spared only a quick glance in his direction. Vince sniffed, then went to the fridge. Several pitchers of orange juice, perfect.
Eapv13
With a girl trapped in the bedroom, however, he was virtually silent, sneaking around and hardly talking at all. When he did speak, it was barely above a whisper, and to Vince when she was not in the same room. Although the guise of taking a break was still intact, it was impossible to ignore the controlling dominatrix inside, and the Mistress within her demanded to know the situation. Just to know, what her Vincent liked the best. Why would he leave her, and the comfort of the brothel?
Eapv12
It seemed to her, that they were unsure of how she might respond. A mix of paranoia and distrust heightened by the drug, and intense anger from Vincent. He was daring her to become his next victim, something that could happen with the slightest misstep. But the girls screams had terrified Lyn. Whatever it was that he was doing in that room, she did not want to intrude any further than she already had. And Patrick. He hadn't once been quiet since she had arrived.
Eapv11
It's not odd, Lyn thought, that he would be timely enough to reappear by eight, but then refuse the promised dinner. She was quite familiar with methamphetamines, as it ran in her own household. But, both of the boys were odd now that they had a guest. Vince had cleaned himself and put on fresh clothes, but she hadn't missed the blood beforehand. Lyn did her best to appear uninterested, but this was the very thing she had come here to see.
Eapv9
"Vincent, would you like some lasagna?" Lyn asked him. Pat already had a plate, he ate quickly with the bread. He usually wolfed down his food though, it was no indicator of the quality. "No thank you," he responded politely. Lyn wore plain clothing, jeans and a simple blouse. It was hard for Vince to see her in anything besides a fine dress, though, as if he couldn't see passed this. He worried briefly about offending her, but he couldn't eat that garbage.
Eapv8
She only had one pot holder, she was using a dish rag too, to hold the dish. She paid no mind, though he was sure that they had both heard the screaming. Vincent looked down at his body. He had blood splattered up his stomach, his unbuttoned jeans revealed more of the red. Her mess was up mid-arm his knife welding hand. And he had gotten sweaty, fucking her that hard. He lit his smoke and sat down. i need a shower.