nexus_crossings | Mother always told me to never give away a story for free

Mother always told me to never give away a story for free

"Honestly, all this bare chest and he hits home right in the fabric..."

Did the demonic looking purple stranger look at all put out by the new locale? Not really, they'd been given a pamphlet that was currently tucked into their belt to be reviewed later. Their attention more focused on the bloody hole in their rather ostentatious coat, lips quirking on a frown as they fingered the damaged fabric lightly, tail twitching behind them in a clear hint of their annoyance.

Really, they're looking rather calm for someone that bloody. When they hear someone coming near they glance up with a jingle of jewelry both in skin and decorating their curved horns, red eyes brightening as their mouth spreads to a cheerfully hopeful smile.

"Well then!" They straighten, something of a showmanship in the shift from grumpy contemplation to sunny disposition but at the same time that shift didn't seem dishonest either. "Hello there darling, please tell me there's some manner of tailor to be found here? As you can likely see I'm in dire need of one."

Clearly this was some manner of weird afterlife, but Mollymauk would be dipped in Fuck No if anyone expected them to wander around with their coat in tatters.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Newcomers in the Nexus are par for the course. Bleeding and potentially dead newcomers are also far less unusual than one might expect. Loki has seen a few come and go in the handful of years he's been here--and of course, he was one of the latter once, himself.

Bluish-skinned (purple, but close enough), red-eyed strangers are rarer, and he pauses a short distance away when they speak to him, visibly interested. He's wearing his usual Asgardian guise, but the similarity to his birth-form is notable. There's a slow blink, and he says, "Are you...no. No, you wouldn't be. Never mind. Yes, actually, there's a brilliant tailor in the Plaza but don't you think you ought to check whether you're actively bleeding first?"

With the amount of blood that had stained both the coat and the formerly white shirt underneath, it's doubtful that this one was anything but dead.

"As if you wouldn't be perfectly aware of where such a preeminent tailor plied his trade, what luck for me," As it was he blinked once, twice in return, before a short laugh slipped from him, amusement clear in his gaze as he nodded. "You're likely right at that though, but well my priorities being what they are..."

It was quick enough work to part fabric a bit more, showing parts of the same peacock tattoo that crawled up the side of his face and neck as he investigated the wound with dark-nailed fingers. "Not nearly as bad as it had been, I've got that going for me today."

As if the injury still didn't look nasty enough, for all the stranger didn't look overly alarmed by it.

Right. Injured, probably dead, in a completely strange place and his priorities are evidently repairing his clothing and charming the locals. A slow smile creeps across Loki's face. This one, if he stays, is going to get along famously here.

The wound makes him wince slightly, though. "And you're not in pain? Not lightheaded at all?" Hopefully he's not in shock because that's not going to improve any time in the near future. "I hate to be the one to break it to you, but that might not be a good sign."

He crouches a little to get a closer look at the wound, concerned but calm. "I'm honestly shite at healing...if you're recovering on your own power I won't interfere but if you pass out all bets are off. Do you want to sit?"

Mollymauk knows his resources. If he's alone well, he's got to work double-time to make sure he makes a good impression after all, especially showing up looking quite demonic and bloodied. Never a good look in a new town.

"Pain?" He laughs wryly. "Gods yes, like I've been skewered for a kebab." Loki didn't know him well enough to know that his skin normally wasn't quite that pale a purple after all, and well he was very good at putting on a good front. "I'm no healer myself, so even a shite healer's going to have one up on me in that respect."

He doesn't move, lets Loki take a look at the injury- definitely stabbed with a blade of some kind, wide and deep, but messy too, like the weapon had been twisted. "So I would absolutely love to take you up on your offer, we can find somewhere nice to sit, introductions all around, and you can see what you can make of little old me and my mess."

"Oof." It's a sympathetic comment, but Loki looks immensely relieved. "Well, congratulations, then, you're probably not undead, at least. You can lean on me, if you like, we'll work out the cleaners' bill later if you get blood on my tunic."

He holds out an arm to offer support. "One more point of order, though--any chance whoever did that followed you here?"

Because he's not taking a stranger to his cottage right away, but a quiet back room at the nearest pub should do if there's no danger of pursuit. The AV field is effective most of the time, but Loki doesn't completely trust it.

"Honestly not a thing I'd yet considered but I am wildly happy to have it stricken from the realms of possibility." Molly replied easily, more than willing to take the arm offered, more a companionable grasp at the moment than anything. Easy enough to shift to grab if he needed to keep upright, but given it wasn't yet, why not just continue as if they were destined to be wonderful friends?

"The slaver?" He tilted his head considering the issue as he let Loki start them on their way. "Doubtful. Last I remembered I was still stuck on his glaive, and he's not the sort to wander off and leave me alive by my own estimate. Hopefully the others are giving him a sound thrashing."

"Slaver." The distaste is evident in Loki's voice. "Well enough, then. If he does somehow show up, he won't be making any friends in this place."

Loki glances about and makes a decision, turning toward a building with a flashing neon sign that reads eer, Win, and Spits due to a few burned out letters. He knows the regular bartender well enough to call in a favor and commandeer the breakroom.

"Right, it's a bit icy, try not to slip." It's only about half a block, though; they're in luck. "For whatever it's worth, I'm sorry for your...predicament? You're handling it well, though."

"What do I call you? My name is Loki."

"Awful man in general, you fine folk are well off without his sort running around," Molly agreed readily enough. Not many liked the idea of slavers and if they did, well that was always a good sign to him that it was better to make tracks so Loki's response was definitely an assurance of the sort of place he'd found himself. "The sympathy is appreciated, not the most ideal way to go but then you go flinging yourself headfirst into trouble at every turn, it's not so unexpected that the trouble might bite back, hm?"

Even without the fully lit letters it was easy enough to peg that Loki was taking him to a bar- another thing to note there that he wasn't so naively trusting as to take a complete stranger home with him. Not that this bothered Molly in the least, just following the other man's guidance without hesitation. And really, the idea of a drink did sound good.

"Loki? Well Loki it is an absolute pleasure to meet you. I'm Mollymauk," His smile widened, brows lifting almost playfully. "But you can call me Molly if you'd rather, all my friends do."

"This place attracts all kinds," Loki admits. "Good, bad, and every shade in-between. But the truly brutish rarely linger. There's a kind of magic that prevents overt violence most of the time. It breaks down sometimes and someone clever can find ways around it if they put their mind to it, but it does tend to make gratuitous cruelty more trouble than it's worth."

That could sound like a warning, but in this case it really isn't. He's not sure what sort of person this newcomer is, but signs thus far do not point to cruelty or violence.

"As someone who's been impaled through the chest before, I feel your pain," he adds dryly. "Though you're not wrong; there are worse ways."

Loki returns the smile, amusement sparkling in his eyes in spite of the grim topic. "Well met, Molly. You're quite the charmer; I think we can safely say we're going to be friends."

"I'd take you to one of my safe houses, incidentally, but I'd rather get that wound sealed and get some water in you first."

"As is unfortunately often the case with magics that ambitious." It definitely was an impressive idea, even if it only worked most of the time- a thing to keep in mind in his dealings here. Not that he was one to start a fight, but things sometimes happened.

"Is there a club? I feel like there should be, free drinks on Thursdays for members."

Whatever the grim commentary what followed earned a chuckle from Molly, genuinely pleased at the idea.

"Likewise Loki, I'm certain we'll get along like a house on fire. And I'm certainly not about to complain about getting this injury taken care of, it'd be a shame to bleed all over your place."

"Hmm, the Kebab Club," Loki muses. "The Noble Order of the Unwillingly Skewered. The Pincushion Fellowship. We'll work on that. Can't be Thursdays, though. That's my brother's day of the week. Perhaps Wednesdays, instead?" That's Odin's day, after all, and he survived his self-impalement, so it fits.

He leads the way around the back of the dive bar and pushes the door open with magic, letting them in quietly. A word to the startled stockboy in the back, and they're ushered into a breakroom that has seen better days. It's clean, but run down. The sofa is sagging as if it's been slept on by thousands of large people kicked out of bed by angry lovers, but the slipcover on it is mercifully stain-free. Unless Molly leaves bloodstains on it, of course, but in that case they'll just have to buy a new one.

Loki leads his new friend to the couch and helps him settle, then shrugs off his own coat and shakes it out, laying it across his shoulders for warmth. A word to the stockboy results in a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of spring water delivered into his hands. He sits, handing the water to Molly, and opens the whiskey.

...and he takes a drink of the liquor first, himself, because he's being nice and hospitable and deserves a reward. But then as far as he's concerned Molly can take over. "There, don't make yourself sick. Let me see what I can do with you."

"We'll workshop the name, Wednesday sounds find to me. Something to break up the drag of the week."

For the moment, Molly lets Loki handle things- this is his favor being called in after all, and the tiefling still hasn't figured out how things work in this place yet. Following him into the back room, comforted a bit by the familiarity of the worn-in state of the place. Some things were universal it seemed.

Loki would likely spot the spread of blood and smaller tear across the back of the coat as he was getting Molly settled in, a sign that whatever the injury looked like now thanks to the Nexus and it's lifesaving measures, it had definitely been a nasty wound before.

Honestly, the tiefling didn't mind Loki taking the first drink of alcohol as he was starting in on the water, but he certainly wouldn't mind the whiskey being passed his way. "Oh there's all manner of things one can do with me."

Absolutely shamelessly a flirt, but there was no sense of pressure, just Molly having a bit of fun bantering.

He does see the back of that wound, and combined with the mangled state he saw earlier, it paints a hell of a picture. Whoever the 'others' Molly referred to are, Loki does hope they fared better against his attacker, and got some of his own back for him. See you in Hel...

He drags a stool closer and perches on the edge of it, nudging the tiefling's shoulder to encourage him to lie back a bit. The flirtatious comment makes him pause and blink, because that's not remotely where his mind was at just now, but then he laughs appreciatively and pats his forearm. "I'll just bet there are."

"If you have any questions about the Nexus, by the way, now's the time to ask." Especially because it will help distract him from the sensation of Loki working on his wound. He dulls the pain as much as he can first, and it's clear there's been some significant healing already, whether that's due to Molly's own physiology or the power of the Nexus, but there is inevitably a sensation of pulling and shifting as bone and tissue are pushed back into place and knitted together.

Truthfully, Loki underestimates his ability as a healer because it's never been his primary focus. He can alter his own body, and shapeshifting is a parallel art to repairing wounds, but he's never thought of himself as a person who fixes things, bodies included. He breaks things; he does not tend to repair them.

In this case, though, slowly but surely, he seems able to do the job.

Loki's amused to the flirting gets a cheesy wink from Molly, complete with a pair of fingerguns as he shifted to let himself lean back. Or well, more accurately drape across the beat-up sofa in what was undeniably a lounge as if this tiefling was somehow unable to be anything but utterly theatrical.

And well, being supine after a difficult fight, with the pain he was in, was something of a relief, maybe a bit apparent to someone as observant as Loki could be- some slight shift in the stance of pointed ears, ever so slightly more relaxed than before, for all that was likely the only current sign of the shift to be found.

"Well, you've handily answered the question of 'a place to get a drink' already, overachiever that you clearly are," Molly mused on his options, the riot of questions he knew he had before seizing for the moment on the practical. "So the first orders of business I'd think would be 'where can a humble tiefling find to rest his weary head' and 'where can a humble tiefling maybe ply his trade?' to start with. And maybe where said tiefling might be able to find some plants of the... entertaining persuasion."

Okay, mostly practical. He couldn't help the face he made at the shift of internals as Loki was at work, brows drawing, nose scrunching as he tilted his head with a glitter of dim lighting off some of the jewelry decorating ears and horns as he did. "Oof, what is it about magical healing that just feels so very crawly?"

Loki laughs softly again at the fingerguns. This individual has more charisma than he knows what to do with, evidently. He isn't prepared to trust him implicitly, but Loki is far from unaffected. He nods when he sees Molly relax a bit further and takes a towel the stockboy has left, to try and wipe up some of the blood that's not quite dry yet.

"Relax; I'm nothing if not a good host. I'm not about to let anything worse happen to you today." And that's a promise, if you like, Molly.

"We must not have had tiefling in my world. I've never heard the term before. At first glance, I actually thought you might be one of my kin--I'm wearing an illusion." There's a pause and a faint green-gold shimmer slides down Loki's body, ivory skin shifting to cobalt, eyes vivid red, with thin ridges etched like runes onto his skin. "Long story. But Jotnarr don't have tails, so I suppose we're not related."

At least not in that way. There's still a definite sense of kinship of character.

The question of entertaining plants further amuses him, but Loki, at least, will attend to practicalities first. He's not always the mom friend, but he's capable of the role. "Well, you can get marijuana at Palmer's garage," he says, "if that's the sort of thing you're looking for; a mild intoxicant you can smoke? Anything harder you're likely to have to get in the underground and I'd recommend you heal up fully before you go there. It's far less friendly than the plaza."

"As far as a place to stay, I'm not going to leave you in the street either way, but what trade might this be, exactly?" Because if it's relatively harmless, or at least something he can get behind, Loki is more than game to offer one of his safe houses. If not, a room at a hotel may be in order.

"You are a wonderful host, Loki and I can assure you I have experienced the hospitality of many, both wonderful and not so much and as such am quite well-suited to say so." The promise was definitely reassuring. For all a promise was a thing often broken, that Loki wanted to offer it was sweet. And he didn't especially strike Molly as the sort to make flippant promises so there was that assurance too.

The admission, and the dispelling of the illusion caught Molly's interest, gaze roving over the changes in form. "Jotnarr? Not a race I've heard of either... but to be fair, it's not terribly impossible for a tiefling to not have a tail. If you'd that and horns why you'd be a lovely twin to my dear friend Jester with that hue you're sporting." He stayed settled back, something a bit wistful cast into his smile as it might've occurred to him that if he was dead, it was likely to be a very long time before he saw her again. Or any of the Nein. Gods, he hoped so for their own sakes. "You'd like her, she's a delightful little ray of sunshine."

He nodded his understanding of where he could find something recreational. Didn't know where things stood here versus the options back home so figured playing with whatever Palmer had on offer would be the place to start. He'd nudge deeper if he felt the desire once he was feeling better sorted as Loki had so aptly suggested.

"Oh I read fortunes," Molly replied to the understandable question, a flick of fingers letting his tarot deck all but appear in his hands in a showy flourish, the tiefling smiling. "Tarot is my specialty but I'm not above drawing runes or throwing bones if someone has a special request."

"I should hope so. Technically, I'm a prince, though I'm not really required to function as such any longer. Not most of the time, anyway." Thor does still rely on his advice occasionally, and he's still keeping an eye on the refugees of the Statesman, not just his own children--but since he's dead, it's a very informal arrangement.

He smiles faintly. "Also known as Frost Giants, yes. I'm an unusually small specimen. I've seen Jotnarr with horns, but never tails. Ultimately, they're not a sociable race and aside from me and my alternates you're not likely to meet any here, but I suppose some part of me takes note of a similar appearance."

Psychologically, it's probably a good sign for Loki that he does react with interest to someone who looks Jotun, rather than revulsion or rage. He's come a long way from the princeling who tried to blow up a planet.

"I'm sure I would," he agrees gently, guessing that wistful look has to do with the thought that he's left this friend of his behind for good. "Sometimes people do find ways to arrive here without being dead, but it's best to make your own way without looking for that."

The outside of the wound is healed shut at this point, on both ends, but the muscle damage is still being pieced back together. Loki takes a moment to get another swig of whiskey before resuming. And he looks pleasantly surprised when Molly reveals the trade in question. "Oh! Well, it won't be hard to get a clientele for that here. You can set up anywhere; it's not illegal to tell fortunes in the Plaza. If you wanted a shop front, you might have to negotiate with a coffee shop or a tearoom for a space. I can't really advise you there, but if you were worried about getting harassed, don't."

And while there are myriad ways a person can make mischief by telling fortunes, Loki can't think of any offhand that would put them in opposition. Good. "I'd offer you my guestroom, honestly, but I don't have one because my house is full of children. And it would be somewhat irresponsible as a parent to bring in a visitor I've only just met. I've a safe house nearby, though; it's small but comfortable and you're welcome to it until you find something that suits you better."

"Well given the name I can imagine you might be smaller, but if that comes with being so very charming as you've come across then I much prefer meeting you."

"Well maybe someday she'll pop up and you'll be able to meet her as well." It wouldn't surprise him that the Nein might accidentally find themselves here. But then he definitely didn't want them to get there like he did.

"But honestly, too small or no, can I say you are striking?" The tiefling mused, a thing to both compliment Loki as well as to distract from the oddity of the sensation of healing. "I'm picturing you just painting those lines over with a bit of gold, just the barest hint for a little bit of shine, the effect would be just incredible."

Idly letting the cards shuffle through ring-decked fingers, a general sort of fidget as they were speaking. "Good to know though, most places are generally okay with fortunes but you never no sometimes! Some places people get nervous. And I would greatly appreciate the use of a safe house, if it won't put you out too much of course."

"I'm so much smaller it makes me wonder if I am, in fact, biologically from two different species. But I have no way to determine that, and ultimately it better suits my nature to be ambiguous. I am known as the god of lies and mischief in my universe of origin."

Striking. That's a nice compliment, much easier to accept than 'beautiful', but equally satisfying. Loki's smile widens and gains a few degrees of warmth. "You can say it as much as you like. I'm not one to argue with admiration."

The idea makes a violet tinge that may well be a blush creep up the back of his neck, though. "They're, ah, a bit ticklish, but..." But. Aesthetically, it's a very good suggestion and even Loki can see that at once. He can imagine both Harley and Megatron appreciating that. "I'll take it under advisement."

"The safehouse I'm thinking of is actually inside a large tree at the edge of my property. I'll have to key the wards to you, but that won't take long. Just try not to startle my housekeeper when she walks to and from my place. She's a gem; losing her would be a disaster."

"The god of lies and mischief?" Molly murmured in a bit of wondering amusement. "I was absolutely correct, Jester would be thrilled to meet you. She's a follower of one of the gods back home, The Traveler, patron of mischief and spreading joy. I'm one of Sehanine's, trickery and illusion being amongst her purview I find myself in familiar company. No wonder we seem to be getting on so well."

An amusing bit of... coincidence? Fate? Whatever the case like drew like here which was interesting to note. As was that blush, Molly's smile softening slightly. "Please do. It's a shame to hide such a lovely face if you ask me."

But that blush meant that unless Loki continued that conversation thread, Molly was content to let it lie there in favor of the shift that followed. "Oh but that sounds lovely. I'll do my best to not be alarming for her, I'm sure it will be fine though."

Loki nods. "I may be a better Trickster than I am a god, really, but yes. Lies and mischief, with a special attention to the care of the outcast, solitary and maligned--whether they're justifiably maligned or not. I knew you were--mm, akin? Associated? After talking with you for a few moments. I might not be quite so attentive otherwise, though I do tend not to be comfortable with just leaving bleeding people in the Plaza to fend for themselves."

You're getting the Quality Loki Experience, is what he's saying, where other injured parties might just get the Economy Package.

"Mischief and spreading joy..." this is interesting to him! "I'm not often accused of the latter, alas, but I like the sound of it. It must be nice to have that patronage."

The blush lingers, but does not intensify, but there's a quirk to Loki's smile that suggests he's genuinely touched by the compliment. "It's difficult," he says. "Jotnarr are not well-thought of in the culture I grew up in. I did not discover I was one until well after I came of age. I'm more comfortable with this face now than I was even a few years ago, but...well. The flattery is much appreciated."

"Mrs. Hedgeworthy is a much tougher soul than she seems at a glance, anyway. You might like her; she used to be an art thief when she was younger. The clever kind that subverts complicated security systems. She's under strict orders not to tell my children her best stories lest they choose a career that means I'll have to bail them out of jail repeatedly."

And now, it seems he's done with the wound, sitting back and rolling his shoulders to release tension. "The muscles will be a bit weak for a few days yet," he says. "You're going to want to eat heartily. But all the parts that should be inside of you will stay there now, and nothing that's outside of you will be able to come in without prior authorization. How do you feel?"

"Well you can rest assured that I am most definitely appreciative of your attentiveness in this regard, you've been most very accommodating to this particular bleeding fool." His smile warms a bit as he nods his agreement to Loki's assessment. "Of anyone, I'd say Jester was the ideal follower for a god such as hers. She is a veritable ray of sunshine even in the darkest of situations. And has a devastating mind for the most entertaining sorts of mischief as well."

His expression shifts a bit at that description of the suspicion of Jotnarr, not pitying, but something more sympathetic, empathetic in the gleam of red eyes. "Tieflings are much the same unfortunately. Born of some union of human and demon, I doubt I need to tell you the sort of suspicions and assumptions that follow my kind, no matter how carefully one works to keep a sterling reputation. Some do try and hide themselves in some way, but I find for me..."

He huffed faintly, considering one of the cards he was turning between a pair of fingers in a slow rotation. "You can know a lot about a person from a reaction. If I'm not hiding myself well, I see the truth of people's opinions when they first see me. Lets me get a better bead on who I can maybe trust a bit more than others. Friends and the like."

He lets his eyes playfully widen at the description of Mrs. Hedgeworthy, mouth rounding on a soft sound of surprise. "So what I'm hearing is that this marvelous woman is definitely someone I should charm into maybe sharing stories of her surely entertaining capers with me then, seeing as the children can't hear them?"

He doesn't jump up and do cartwheels once Loki finishes his work. The cards are slipped away as neatly as they'd appeared, and he shifts in stages, first to sit up, twisting his torso lightly to feel the movement, that everything is about where it should be. He feels the aforementioned weakness, but that wasn't a terribly new thing for major injuries, so he nodded as he gingerly took to his feet once it felt like everything was working as it should. "You say you're a shite healer, the ones where you come from must be amazing. I feel much better now thanks to you."

"Perhaps I will get to meet her some day. Under less dire circumstances than this, I hope." He reaches out and gives Molly's shoulder a gentle pat. It sounds like he is going to miss this companion of his, and possibly many others. It's to his credit that he's taking the shock well, but Loki feels for him.

"Oh?" The mention of demonic heritage prompts him to give his guest a second glance. He can sort of sense it now that it's brought to his attention, but in general he isn't attuned to such things. "There are all kinds of people here. Humans and those that resemble them predominate, but it's a wider variety than it seems at first glance. I won't swear to it that you won't encounter prejudice at all, but I shouldn't wonder if you find it rarer here."

"And in any case, you are not without friends."

He laughs then. "Don't tell her I tipped you off, but yes--I highly recommend charming her into storytelling. She likes a dry sherry if you want to offer her a drink sometime."

Loki wipes his hands off on the towel and banishes it to a pocket dimension. He'll either clean it or incinerate it later. He nods his approval as Molly stands and gets up himself, with a stretch and a sigh. "Mm, well, our healers in Asgard were all instructed by the actual goddess of mercy, so perhaps my standards are skewed. I'll take the compliment, anyway."

"So long as it's not literally a pitchfork and torches mob I am more than happy to ignore any fussy sorts. Not like I'm about to go trying to rouse their ire, that's absolutely not my scene." But the mention of friends about does earn a grin from him, something pleased in the expression.

"Don't tell her it was you, and make sure I have a good sherry on hand to tempt her with, that I can certainly do. Worst comes to worst I can always ply her with ridiculous tales of my own." Not all of them true, but then stories were about being entertaining in that case rather than being wholly honest. And between making someone laugh or being honest, Molly would hands down choose laughter.

The tiefling plucks a scarlet kerchief that looks to be some manner of linen from some random pocket to daub away some of the blood from his own skin and hands, humming a low note of understanding. "Well there's your problem my friend!" God or no, Molly had no trouble with just continuing as they'd been with his typical charm. "Comparing yourself to who I can only assume is the pinnacle is just a formula for setting yourself up for disappointment. Don't sell yourself so short, you're quite skilled and I speak from unfortunately copious experience of the ministrations of many sundry healers."

"No, no, that would be far too gauche for this place," Loki smirks. Besides, if no one's come for him with pitchforks yet, someone without a planet-killing reputation should be fine.

"I may have to ask you to ply me with ridiculous tales as well, then," he says, collecting the whiskey and water bottles. "That's better than coin as far as I'm concerned. Let me get you to my safehouse for now; I'll point out the tailor's to you then, and you can go see him at your leisure."

At this point in his life, Loki is far less concerned with worship than general respect and warmth in his acquaintanceships. Molly's instincts are solid. He chuckles and beckons him to follow. "I like this arrangement we've made where you tell me nice things about myself. I suppose it's your body; if the work suits you, it must be good enough. Do you need food supplies before we leave? This is, as you've likely guessed, a dive bar, but you'll find the owner makes it look deliberately grottier than it actually is."

Which makes if a very useful little meeting place, as far as Loki's concerned.

Mother always told me to never give away a story for free

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Joke's on Loki his Charisma is only an 11 XD

pfft! maybe he's just susceptible

Molly is a special brand of Charming it's true

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