Klaus Mikaelson has met a lot of people in his life, but never one like Mad Sweeney.
In which
The most unlucky leprechaun finds purpose in her mad wandering.
Klaus Mikaelson × OC
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¶chapter two¶
°oh god, that's disgusting. °
___
"Would you stop smoking cigarettes? It's bad for you, you know?" Marcel muttered under his breath as he pulled another cigarette out of Mad Sweeney's mouth, who was ready to light it.
The blond groaned loudly as she tried to reach for her cigarette. It was simply said a comical sight.
Sweeney was in a bathrobe, tightly wrapped around her, another towel flipped around her hair to soak up the wetness, as she tried to move with the big black slippers on her feet that Marcel gave her.
"Come on, you don't give me to drink, you don't give me to smoke and you're starting to get boring. The last time, we saw each other you were a party animal." Sweeney stood carefully and slowly made her way towards Marcel as she clasped her hands on his cheeks. "Where did that person go?" She muttered.
Marcel only stared at her in disapprovement, making Sweeney sigh to herself, before headbutting him, blood oozing from his nose immediately.
"Are you crazy?" Marcel yelled as he took a few steps back from the woman, clutching at his nose, before moving it back to place.
"Is that even a real question?" Sweeney grinned, her smile reaching each ear before she moved to the steps of Marcel's apartment.
"Where are you going?"
"To get dressed, bitch."
___
"Come on, Sweeney. Get your ass up." Marcel said in a loud voice as he pushed Sweeney a little on the shoulder, who decided that taking a nap on his couch was necessary.
"Why?" The blond muttered as she rolled around, turning her back on Marcel, trying to make herself comfy.
"Because I have been called and I don't want to leave you alone for you to drink all my stash of whiskey," Marcel muttered, as he put on his leather jacket, before throwing Sweeney's jean jacket on her head.
"Marcel, leave me alone. I want to sleep." Sweeney faced him, jutting her lip forward, showing off her wounds from yesterday.
"No. Now get up." Marcel tried to persuade the woman, who wasn't budging, only sinking deeper into his couch. "I'll give you your cigarettes back."
"Well, if you put it that way," Sweeney said with a cheeky grin as she lifted herself quickly and grabbed her jacket. "Where to?"
