a bottle of bourbon is placed on 〃𝓂𝚛. 𝓈𝚊𝚕𝚟𝚊𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚎.’s desk with a bow on top. the letters M.S. written in cursive. stands for margot salvatore—though that isn’t really her name ( legally ).

:: SLs????

:: PLS

*open gif starter*

and who is he?

could that be? 𝙸 𝙳𝙾𝙽𝚃 𝙳𝙾 𝙶̲𝙾̲𝙾̲𝙳̲ .ᐟ

rather rude.

margot. just margot.

he’s lucky she thinks he’s alright. “you could at least say hello.”

she grumbles under her breath, rolling her eyes. “you’d think you’d be kinder to me.”

she quickly presses the green button and holds the phone up to her ear. “yes?”

“perhaps they were.” there’s a playful tone in her voice as she wanders around her apartment, pacing on the phone.

“the opposite of your brother. perhaps that’s why i like you.” he was different. a breath of fresh air. he didn’t try to be perfect in front of her.

“perhaps it’s a gift. i left it for you. is there a problem?” her brows furrow in confusion, and though he can’t see it, she tilts her head to the side.

“did you seriously just call me child?” she shudders at the thought. still getting used to him being her father or whatever. “can’t I just give you a gift?”

“seems a little weird, ( dad ) .” she has to force herself to say it, emphasizing every syllable. “can i come over?”

“be there in five. save me a hug.” she was still getting used to the whole ‘loving family who doesn’t see her as a misfit’ thing. it was different. exciting. soon, she’s knocking on the door.

“decided to move to a town that didn’t try to kill me every time i breathed so,” she shrugs, giving him a thankful smile.

“well—who are you looking for then? and why? and why do you need me?” she didn’t like that he knew. that he understood.

is OurCherie? around?