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I live by my own law [m for language]
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Warning: Language as usual, sexual themes

croeheader


Maintaining a neutral expression was unusually challenging. Croe glanced in the direction of her officemates as they scurried out the door, a shade of rebuke creeping into the look she gave them, but otherwise maintained eye contact with Lorraine as she prepared her tirade. Boy oh boy, what a tirade it was. The goddess was flushed, pupils dilated, arms crossed over her chest in a way that emphasized her cleavage. If Croe didn’t already suspect she was angry, she might have guessed she was aroused.

It was a little hot, to be honest. In another life Croe might have fucked her, if she weren’t such a bitch.

But Lorraine wasn’t just a bitch – she was the kind that reminded Croe precisely of her mother. Unfortunately for the goddess, this meant she had plenty of experience smirking under the deluge of offenses, their barbs glancing harmlessly off her tough exterior. Lorraine’s face might have been made for contempt, but Croe’s was made for indifference. ”You are mistaken,” Croe confirmed delicately, as if she were talking to a moron. She had already said this was none of her business, and was stubborn enough to endure whatever this vyperdysch* threw at her before she offered any details. But oh, Lorraine was clearly dying to hear them. Somehow, Croe managed not to smile.

The goddess moved, and Croe slowly swiveled in her chair to follow, her hands clasped casually in her lap. Apparently her nonchalance had prompted icebitch to up the ante – she was getting into the hard shit now, stuff she’d obviously rehearsed in the past so she could deliver each pointed insult with a sniper’s accuracy. And it might have hurt, if Croe were a different sort of woman…or stupid. Lorraine had millennia of history with Mallos, and it was no secret that their relationship was complicated. Of course she had seen other relationships bloom and fail; of course she would know details about him that Croe had not yet learned. What did this hitrovyebannyi** think? That Croe thought she was the first and only person Mallos had ever loved? That she lived in fear of their relationship ending? That she was in it for the money?

Wait…she did think Croe was in it for the money! Her expression had remained aloof throughout this divine diatribe, but her lips parted slightly as the realization hit her. It was right as Lorraine leaned forward, thinking she was delivering the kill shot. Instead of bleeding out, Croe laughed.

She was not stupid. But reckless? Absolutely.

Her laughter sputtered out of her, bursting through the seams of her composure. Croe truly gave her best effort to contain it, but the situation was just…too absurd. Here Lorraine thought she was trampling on her self-esteem and threatening her future, when she’d actually come bearing surprising good news: Mallos had rejected her. And he’d rejected her firmly enough that the goddess felt the need to craft a rivalry from it, and remind Croe – and herself – that she had some standing to fall back on…someday. When the relationship ended. When Croe reached the end of her mortal life. Whatever.

”Damn,” she wheezed, holding her ribs, ”He must have really shut you down.”


croefooter



*literally, someone who appears from a fart. A person who thinks they are important, but aren’t.

**literally, “trickily fucked.” Someone who is too fancy, snobbish, or presumes to be smarter than others.

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