[ The lights make him miss home—how could he not?—and for all that he knows it isn't welcoming, that it's broken and torn, there are pieces of it he thinks she might like to see. Or at least find amusing. Perhaps another time, he might be reminded of something else to show her.
For the moment, he's no longer thinking about a continent from another sphere. She takes his hand; he lets her, following her through the doors. The space inside is pink and full of florals as it always is. He sets the bottle he's been drinking from on the nearest surface—
And then his hands are on her hips again, his back pressed against the wall. ]
no subject
For the moment, he's no longer thinking about a continent from another sphere. She takes his hand; he lets her, following her through the doors. The space inside is pink and full of florals as it always is. He sets the bottle he's been drinking from on the nearest surface—
And then his hands are on her hips again, his back pressed against the wall. ]