fandomtownies | Mystery Sign Theater 3000, Thursday

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Mystery Sign Theater 3000, Thursday

So Ulysses has definitely shown up to the theater on the wrong day this week. Like, a wildly wrong day, which said a few things about how his week had been going so far. The fact that Ingrid had to tell him what day it actually was said even more.

Probably not good things.

Though maybe that depended on your point of view?

Anyway, yes, Ulysses was looking a little frazzled and restless sitting in his little box office booth today. He was also probably going to avoid sneaking in to any of the screenings of the day's movie.

NOW SHOWING
Game of Seduction

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Where Uly is, looking like a hot mess.

"Jesus, Twitchy, since when do you work here?"

Margo had had a great morning, followed by a shitty afternoon, and she had just walked in here to watch something that could maybe calm her the fuck down before she tried another booty call. But no: there was That One Guy. (Who, her body helpfully informed her, was kinda hot in a terrified sort of way.)

... Oh no.

"Uh, since like two years ago?" Ulysses -- tried. It probably counted as trying. "Margo."

To his credit, he actually managed to make that part sound a little pointed. Maybe it was how his week had been going.

"Clearly I don't come here enough," Margo said, visibly amused as she leaned against the ticket booth. "Or just enough."

Look, after Stark, she really needed to hit on someone she was actually capable of being mean to.

Ulysses managed an eye roll.

"No one really comes here."

"No coming, huh. Bad week?" Margo asked innocently.

Ulysses looked both unimpressed and slightly offended.

(Maybe a little twitchy, too. Or maybe that was just the effect his now involuntarily wandering gaze was giving him.)

"I didn't mean it that way."

"I know, I think that's why they call it a Freudian slip," Margo said. She still sounded entirely too sweet. She tilted her head, trying to get a good look inside the ticket booth.

It was a cramped booth. Mostly just Ulysses in his disheveled hipster glory. All skinny jeans with some gaudy print up top that probably shouldn't have worked but did through sheer power of will. (Or at least had back in LA.)

"What do you want, Margo?"

He was finding he didn't like it when she sounded this sweet. Somehow put him even more on edge than she usually did, which was saying something.

"Well, what I wanted was a ticket for the movie." She definitely sounded less sweet now. "How soundproof is this booth? Just asking."

Ulysses blinked.

"I mean."

It wasn't that he hadn't expected that, honestly.

Just kind of felt like none of his blood was moving in the direction of his brain all of a sudden.

"De-- depends, uh, on like how... loud."

Margo smirked.

What? All she wanted right now was a nice, uncomplicated fuck where she got to feel in ~~control~~ charge. And Uly had the perfect vibe.

"Oh,"she said, tilting her head. "Well, how quiet can you be?"

Ulysses really wasn't thinking about his wants with even that level of detail, right now. Was he thinking about much at all?

Definitely not his dignity.

"... Very."

"Then I guess you're just going to have to close this window while I get the door," Margo said, "Aren't you?"

She pulled away without another word, to go around and find the entrance.

Ulysses would ponder later whether he ought to have had at least some kind of an independent opinion about this.

Right now he was a bit too busy nudging the door open before closing the window, flicking the 'BRB' sign the right way around, and fumbling with the blinds.

He'd had plenty of time to form one.

Since he hadn't? Well, Margo slipped into the booth, and closed the door behind her.

That was exactly why he would later think he should probably have at least tried to have one, yes.

But she was in the booth now, which more or less put her right in his personal space, which meant he was now extra keenly aware of how attractive she was in her feminine and terrifying way (one of those balancing out the other, and maybe not in the direction it would have worked for many others), which meant --

Oh good, he was just staring at her, now. Though, in fairness, feeling like she was going to break his arm if he initiated touch didn't seem entirely unwarranted.

And Margo looked back at him, amused. "Do I have to ask permission to get in your lap, or are you good?"

She shrugged out of her jacket.

"I --"

He had to clear his throat.

"Didn't think you, uh. Ask permission for much."

"I don't," Margo agreed, as she stripped off her shirt. "But sometimes I like to make exceptions when I'm about to get my hands all over someone's dick."

"... Makes sense."

Oh. Shirt. Maybe he should do something like maybe take his off, too.

(Don't make fun of his tattoos, Margo. He'd gotten some of them very young.)

She managed to limit it to a huff of amusement that could be about-- anything, really, so there was that. "Close enough," Margo decided, slid into his lap, and immediately reached for his zipper.

Oh thank fuck. That whole area was starting to get a little... tight.

One of his hands landed on her arm, still a little tentative, a lot careful.

"You can touch," Margo said, mirth on her lips.

Then her hand slid into his pants. What? She intended to keep her word.

"Sorry if I don't wanna risk any limbs," Ulysses replied, managing a tiny bit of a grousing tone. If distracted. While his touch grew firmer, traveled more towards her chest.

He was about to be a whole lot more distracted. Yes.

And that was just fine.

Get some snacks and candy!

Two vicious step-siblings of an elite Manhattan prep school make a wager: to deflower the new headmaster's daughter before the start of term.

Anyway I got back from my two-week trip yesterday and I am exhausted. *flops*

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Mystery Sign Theater 3000, Thursday

Box Office [02/16]

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Lobby/Concessions [02/16]

NOW SHOWING: Game of Seduction

OOC [MST3000 02/16]