Young and in Love - Wenclair

Maybe We Could Happen

It hadn't been the first time Wednesday had slammed the door in Ajax's face when he came to find Enid after a spat. He was usually drunk off his ass, and yet still nursing a half empty bottle of rum varying in sizes depending on what ungodly hour he chose to make an appearance.

Tonight was no different.

Wednesday swallows the growl bubbling low in her throat, impatient and smouldering. "How many times, pray tell, will you show up here? I don't want Thing exposed to greasy, hapless imbeciles so early on in his infancy of serial-killing."

A baseless threat. Because Thing was completely capable and well versed in all things homicidal- he was an Addams, after all. But Ajax was as mind-numbingly oblivious as everyone else in this god forsaken world.

Ajax's lip curls in disgust, "Just tell me where she is. She's my fiancé, I have the right to know!" He says, voice near whining.

"As I have told you for the past two weeks every time you stumble upon my doorstep," Wednesday pauses to flicker her eyes over the man's appearance, spotting the black engagement ring glistening under the porch light and tapping against the glass bottle, "I do not know where Enid is. I have not seen her in a year. Now go, before I use your entrails as your own noose and shackles."

She slams the door in his face, turning and pressing her back against it with a heavy breath. Her fingertips were itching to dig through her arsenal of weapons for the best to use in killing him or to at least to maim him in any way possible. But she never did, because for some reason Enid loved that belligerent fool. Even if he did traipse onto Addams land. She could send any of her ancestors to haunt him, or call her parents while they traveled the home country to send someone to take him out silently, even if it wouldn't be as satisfying as flaying him herself.

Growls lowly. Fiancé. How disgustingly archaic to stake claim on a young werewolf simply because her parents found him fitting enough. They had been dating on and off for three years, certainly that wasn't befitting of a healthy marriage. That ring meant nothing- not without a mating bite, and even his two brain cells rubbed together could acknowledge that much.

Pugsley calls out from the couch, a smirk lilting in his words. "If I didn't know any better dear sister, I'd think you were protecting Enid."

Wednesday narrows her eyes, pushing off the door to venture into the living room, plucking up Pugsley's half-full wine glass from his grip. "I'm not protecting her. She's just-"

Pugsley lifts a hand, waving it around pointlessly. "-bane of your existence, the ink that blots your words, the sun to your moon, wolf I'd like to fu-"

Wednesday claps a hand over her brothers mouth. "Do not finish that sentence, Pugsley, if you'd like to live to see 17." Her tone is warning, though whatever her brother had been going for seemed to work as a deep pink colours her cheeks.
"Would you rather me throw her to that... vermin of a man that enjoys torturing her for his own strange whims?"

Pugsley shrugs, grabbing the half empty bottle Wednesday had been nursing to soothe her migraine form the table, along with a glass. "Maybe she's into it." His eyebrows wiggle suggestively. Wednesday smacks his arm.

"Watch it, or I'll cut your tongue out and serve it to one of our black mamba's."

Pugsley's eyes soften at the way Wednesday's usually-monotone face seems to fall, "Look," he starts, "Enid is as strong as Ajax is persistently annoying. She'll be fine. Plus, clearly no one is on his side if they won't even let him into the packhouse where she's at," he offers, patting Wednesday's thigh in an awkward show of brotherly comfort.

Wednesday nods, eyes sticking to the flames of the fireplace as if they're ancient tomes fluttering by. "Doesn't her mother always says- love is weakness." Pugsley mocks with a pinched nose, sipping some of his wine. "But then again, her mother is also a tactless old crone that probably needs to be laid desperately."