I'm not a waiter but I'd take his tip

COLT

What if I hurt you, what if I leave you
What if I find somebody else, and I don't need you
What if this goes south, what if I mess you up
What if I break your heart in two

She's been unable to sleep for nights now. Her body begs for it, weary in too many ways to count, but her mind, though equally thin, stays busy with thought and memory. It's unusual punishment for someone that otherwise finds rest easy, and that is its own set of shit to unpack. She perches on the edge of her bed, one leg pulled up against her chest as she stares at the floor where a moonbeam pulls away the dark with something silver.

She sighs. 

The bed creaks as she's driven from it, slipping back into jeans and a shirt, tugging her hair to one side and combing her fingers through it a few times, more for the calm than the look. She steps barefoot into her boots, not planning to wear them long, just enough to get to the House of Midnight and back. She grabs a drink out the door, a shot of tequila to keep her company for the walk besides her own head.

- - -

She left word for Thorn with the barkeep, to come by when he's off work, if he has time. It'll be later, she imagines, later than this anyway, but she'll be awake still—of that she's certain. She leaves the door open, screen keeping back the worst of the summer bugs and the dogs on the porch keeping out the rest. She busies herself in her kitchen. Margaritas to start—something sour, always sour for her. Feels a bit classier than just clinging to the tequila, gives her more to work through too otherwise she's liable to keep sipping and be too drunk to tell Thorn a damn thing. Next, cookies whipped up from scratch, and after that...well she'll just keep finding shit to do until her friend rescues her or she passes out, either feels welcome.

---

Set a day or two before [PQ] Half of me wants a cold beer, the other half does too

What if I was made for you and you were made for me
What if I just pulled you close, what if I leaned in
And the stars line up, and it's our last first kiss
What if I loved all these what ifs away

// the only heaven i'll be sent to —

Longheat makes people restless. Not that he can blame them - and with the adjusting rooms, it made it easy to stay cool when his clients chose changes to their rooms that would provide just as much cooling atmospheres. Still, it leaves the courtesan tired as he slinks to the bar and hears that Colt had asked him to stop by. Suddenly, he doesn’t feel as tired. And content as he is to snag a quick shower, a change of clothes, the courtesan arrives at her door without doing much else like he usually would.

Healing magic made it easier to get rid of hickeys as they cling to his skin, but tonight Thorn doesn’t bother with it. Instead, he knocks on the metal that surrounds the screen to not take Colt by surprise (even though he’s sure the dogs have alerted her already as he pats a few of them on the way up), and when he slips into her home it’s to the smell of lime and salt, the hint of tequila, warmed entirely by the sweetness of cookies that he immediately heads to the kitchen.

Dressed down, more than she’s probably seen, the abandoned wears a pair of tight jeans, boots, and a sheer see through tank top of a shirt. It allows for his tattoos to be seen everywhere they go - the shackles made of vines on his wrists in a dark green are always visible, but as he shifts his weight, the view of flowers against his hips and vines that wind out from them toward his stomach are visible as he flashes a smile and tilts his head as he leans against the doorframe to the entry to her kitchen, the silver jewelry in his ears wiggling with the movement. “You doin’ alright?” He asks, taking note of the margaritas and cookies and the late hour.

thorn

— is when i'm alone with you //

COLT

What if I hurt you, what if I leave you
What if I find somebody else, and I don't need you
What if this goes south, what if I mess you up
What if I break your heart in two

The dogs are a chorus long before she hears his knuckles rap the door, giving her time to pull the cookie tray out to cool before glancing over. He's draped on the doorframe like a vine, utterly content in his languid lean."Thooooooooorn!" she greets with liquor-warmth and a crinkle of familiar affection to her nose as a full smile breaks across her face. He might lack his usual glittery adornments, but he still manages to show her up, and she makes another mental note that one day she needs to raid his closet and figure out just what she might fit into for a night out.

"You're just in time for fresh cookies," she announces brightly as she leans into the splay of her hands along the kitchen island, head tilting to match his slant. "Can I get you anything to drink? I'm doing simple margaritas, but I've got most things. Can't promise I know how to actually make most of them, but the ingredients are here." Whiskey, rum, vodka, all shit she didn't really touch much, but holdovers from her late father and keeping stock for those who did. She's already buzzing, but the point isn't to get sloshed, she still has to work tomorrow—assumes he does too. Just something to take the edge off is all.

She hasn't really answered his question since he asked it. Maybe doesn't know how to answer it, really. Although, she looks alright, doesn't she? Cheerful, active, unbothered. That's the goal anyway. She's not trying to trick him though, and she did ask him over for a reason, other than the fact she adores every moment she spends with him.

Holding a smile in place like it's a job, waiting on his drink order or lack of it, she tilts her head down and leans into the counter more, fingers curling around the edge. She pulls part of her bottom lip under her teeth, thinking. When she lifts her head again, there's a spark of mischief caught in all the corners of her. "I fooled around with this guy out in Hak Etme recently and I can't get it out of my head Thorn." What starts as a grin ends in a groan, tilting her head back like it's an actual weight contained up there.

She sighs, long and loud, before bringing her head back straight and holding him with a sharp stare. "So I need your advice. You know all about guys, way more than me, I need you to tell me what to do because I'm just going back and forth. And I need you to be so brutally honest with me, alright? I can take it," she threatens with a finger pointed at him. "So, lay it out however you need."

What if I was made for you and you were made for me
What if I just pulled you close, what if I leaned in
And the stars line up, and it's our last first kiss
What if I loved all these what ifs away

// the only heaven i'll be sent to —

Her excitement and delight are infectious, and Thorn’s smile brightens at the sight of it - comfortable in her home just as he was in the House of Midnight, still leaning against the side of the doorframe, peering across to her with bright seafoam eyes. “Cookies, huh?” He says, immediately latching onto it as he pushes off the doorframe to invade her kitchen, moving over to the kitchen island to drape across it. “Oooh a margarita sounds great.” He practically moans at the thought, airing a touch closer to his courtesan nature before the smile he flashes her way proves otherwise with how boyish it is in nature.

But then she begins to explain what the reason was, and he’s immediately noting the mischief in her gaze and can’t help but to let his smile quirk a bit more conspiratory as he sidles up closer, only to be stilled when her gaze finds his again, like a prey being spotted by a predator. “I can be brutally honest.” He says with a snort, but his eyes narrow a touch, wondering what the options could be that she’s dancing between.

Then again, he remembers the night he’d learned to line dance and the story she’d shared with him, and suddenly his heart aches for her for how confusing and frustrating this must be. So, rather than invading her space completely, the courtesan hops up onto he counter of the island to sit, uncaring if there’s any flour leftover to dust his ass. His legs swing a little as he watches her curiously. “Mkay, so, what’s the issue? What’s makin’ ya feel all twisted up inside?” He asks, snagging a cookie to bite into while he listens.

thorn

— is when i'm alone with you //

COLT

What if I hurt you, what if I leave you
What if I find somebody else, and I don't need you
What if this goes south, what if I mess you up
What if I break your heart in two

"Man after my own heart," she says with a cluck of her tongue and a wink as she slips from the countertop to get busy with his drink, departing with a grateful squeeze to his leg. "Alright, so, let me paint you a proper picture here," she says with a bit of a dramatic flourish for the storytelling, glancing over her should at him with a half-grin as she grabs a glass and curls an already cut wedge of lime around its rim.

"First of all, he can shift into a horse and he ended up carrying my ass all around the desert on a quest that Frey sent me on for the damn belt buckle rodeo prize." she pauses her rolling of the glass in rock salt to arch a 'brow at Thorn. "I dunno how many Attuned you know that are willing to let people ride them, but I don't know many." It had been a bit of a problem actually when trying to invite them to play at bulls for her event, with most seeming to find the notion apalling. "Other than Sunjata I mean, he's always an outlier," she waves him off with a hand as she resumes her task, affection coloring her dismissal of the Flood. "I mean, it was practical. Faster. Safer. But there's other options, so why'd he do it?"

Fishing the tequila out of the freezer along with some ice that rattles into the glass, Colt considers something else. "He's been helping me a lot, actually. When I first met him he cowboyed up, looked for a lost horse with me. Later, ran into him again buying lumber for the stands. He finished loading it and...cheered me up." There's no suggestive tone to her voice to imply the cheer had a deeper meaning, but saying he let her punch him didn't seem to accurately capture the moment they had shared. She held onto the cold tequila bottle for a minute then, lost in the idea of it all before catching herself and resuming, measuring with her heart when she poured the tequila in.

"He never asked for anything," she says softly, finishing with a premade mix and slides the tequila back into the freezer. She spins around and rejoins him, popping up next to him on the counter, but she leans her back against it, hair spilling over the edge by his legs while she stares upsidedown at him. "Seems sweet, right?" she asks cautiously, biting at the edge of her thumb in thought. "Anyway, back to the damn desert. We were out there for a few days. The quest took longer than either of us thought. We ended up hitting the ocean at the end to cool off, and that's where things really heated up."

Now there's a dangerous line to her lips, her gaze conspiratorial as she flicks it to Thorn. "I bet you have your favorites Thorn. He's mine." She laughs then, "Gods I almost creamed my pants just kissing him. I was like a fucking virgin again." She covers her face with both her hands and turns her head away with a groan. "Maybe I just had heatstroke by then."

What if I was made for you and you were made for me
What if I just pulled you close, what if I leaned in
And the stars line up, and it's our last first kiss
What if I loved all these what ifs away

// the only heaven i'll be sent to —

“Readyin’ my mind for pictures.” Thorn rumbles as he closes his eyes with a hint of dramatics, like it’s a movie he’s about to paint in his head while she speaks. But the act doesn’t last long, his seafoam gaze popping open immediately when she says that this stranger can shift into a horse and took her practically backpacking across the whole desert. So rather than paint the picture in complete darkness of closed lids, he watches as she makes the margarita, his own brow raised.

So he nods when she pauses, asking the question while she bites her tongue, his gaze narrowing a touch as he tilts his head. “Sounds almost too good.” Drumming his fingertips along the countertop from where he’s still perched on it, his other hand snags the margarita to sip from it as she hops up to sit beside him, laying back to peer up at him. And all the while, Thorn’s mind is already racking based off of what he did and didn’t know about Colt.

And yet somehow still finding himself protective of her, like he has any right to be.

But her excitement over the ordeal is palpable, and Thorn snorts a little as she mentions he’s got his favorites – to which he can’t lie and say he doesn’t. There are those that he’s more excited to see when they book him, because at the very least he’d get something he enjoyed at the end of the day instead of completely providing for his clients all on his own. “I’m glad you’re happy, Colt. I just.. It’s weird that it seems like he’s able to give ya everything without wantin’ anything, right? People’re selfish.” Maybe that’s the courtesan in him talking. Maybe it’s the fact he hasn’t had just a spontaneous fuck in a long while that he didn’t get paid for that’s talking, but he takes a long deep sip of the margarita and works his brain as he considers her and the situation, letting the alcohol flood him with warmth.

thorn

— is when i'm alone with you //

COLT

What if I hurt you, what if I leave you
What if I find somebody else, and I don't need you
What if this goes south, what if I mess you up
What if I break your heart in two

This is why she called on Thorn. He gets it. He gets people, real well, she figured that out pretty quick when he managed to hold all her broken bits without making her feel fragile. She's rather certain she has a nose for people too, especially after living with him and having to watch out for the little cues that'd signal a nice night turning terrible. Of course, that often felt impossible when they'd be smiling and laughing one minute and the next their dinner was splattered against the wall. All it took was one wrong quip from her, one accidentally knocked bit of silverware—hell some days she still couldn't even figure out what'd set him off, like maybe the air itself had been wrong and spoiled everything for him.

Either way, it all came down to certain tells, subtle shifts in body language, not unlike the look of a horse dropping a shoulder to upset your balance before a buck, or a lick and a chew once their mind was in the work. Only difference is, horses didn't wag silver tongues and wrap her in shadows built of sin. Whatever she knew always seemed to whip out the window the moment she saw Vesper, and damn if that wasn't enough to make her wanna run. She spent all this time making sure no one would ever stick again, and he's settled in like a tick in a place she can't reach.

Thorn didn't have that problem though. And here, without those blue eyes and that crooked smile, Colt could keep her head. It made it easier to pick apart all the stones that settled in her gut, the ones that got to floating when he was nearby. "EXACTLY!" the back of her hand smacks Thorn's leg with the excitement of his understanding. "I wanna know what his fucking angle is Thorn, he's gotta have something." Thorn's right, people are selfish. Sure as shit knows she is, that's half the reason she's got mr. midnight buried under her skin.

"Money, power, sex." the big three of wants in the world, but being the son of Safrin makes her sure power isn't the biggest worry he's got on his plate, also doesn't explain why he'd tangle her up in it, the money either. Sex, that made sense, but not with her. His efforts on the beach told her enough that he's not for want of experience in the bedroom, and given how young and handsome he is, she's certain he's got no hard time selecting a partner.

Power comes in many forms though. Maybe something less literal, but she still can't figure out how it relates to her, what he wants from her. "Revenge...ruin. I'm trying to think if I did something to piss him off in the past and didn't realize, or maybe did something to his family. Although, with his mom being Safrin..." she glances up at Thorn with a nervous finger pressed against her teeth. "That's a whole other problem," she sighs. "And one other one too," now she's wincing, hands tugging through her hair, tight, like it might pull her shame and stupidity out. "He's young Thorn. Old enough, sure, but younger than you I'm pretty sure. Sure as fuck too young for me." She glances across her kitchen, deflated with the admittance of it all.

All this, and it might not even matter. He might've already gotten what he wanted and be done, and this, leaving her stewing like some fool, might have all been part of the plan.

What if I was made for you and you were made for me
What if I just pulled you close, what if I leaned in
And the stars line up, and it's our last first kiss
What if I loved all these what ifs away

// the only heaven i'll be sent to —

The smack of the back of her hand to his thigh almost has him jostling the margarita he’s carefully lifting to his lips. He doesn’t lose any of it, though, instead letting a soft laugh escape him in agreement before his tongue dips out to snag some of the salt from the rim and takes a healthy sip. “Everyone’s got somethin’.” He agrees, from the things she lists out to the simple idea of loneliness, there was always something that motivated people to do one thing over another.

Instead, the courtesan is taken completely by surprise when he hears her drop the fact that this stranger’s mom was Safrin? He sets the margarita down so he doesn’t spill it, leaning to hover over her with his brows furrowed and his wild hair half crossing his face. “Sorry, what the fuck? Safrin’s his mom??” Just a casual bombshell, like it didn’t change much.

He’s still trying to wrap his mind around it when she continues, the fact that he’s young and even younger than him and he raises a brow at her like he’s surprised that’s the biggest problem. “Ya got an age limit?” He asks curiously, because half his clients didn’t care about it. But Thorn was of age anyway.

Well… And he did get paid, so, perhaps his judgement on that front isn’t the best.

“Okay, okay. So. I mean, if I were you I’d straight up ask ‘im if he’s got some motive.” He squints at her before withdrawing and taking a heavy sip of his margarita, setting it back down to peer at her with a knowing look. “Maybe there’s nothin’ and he’s appreciatin’ how pretty y’are and we're just makin' a mole hill outta nothin'?” Another counterpoint. Colt was gorgeous. Maybe Safrin’s kid had a thing for pretty women?

Or maybe he’s got mommy issues? Hard to say when he’s never met the guy.

thorn

— is when i'm alone with you //

COLT

What if I hurt you, what if I leave you
What if I find somebody else, and I don't need you
What if this goes south, what if I mess you up
What if I break your heart in two

A laugh breaks free as Thorn wrestles with his drink, "sorry," she grins. "But don't you dare spill any of that on me," an unnecessary warning it would seem as he carefully takes his sip and later sets it aside.

The loom of his face over hers at the news of Safrin has her pulling on both her cheeks, groaning a bit. "I know, I know. I about crapped myself when he revealed it to me, in front of her." Although Safrin had been nothing but delightful in that encounter, full of a mother's warmth and adoration for her son, not quite the witch Colt had imagined after all the negative stories she'd heard about her. Still, she trusted those stories, and she didn't think she'd be receiving quite the warm welcome from her without Vesper there, an definitely not if anything bad happened with Vesper. It feels like a risk, calling attention to herself in any manner from a goddess known for destructive devotion.

She's surprised that the age doesn't bother Thorn half as much as the lineage. She glances back up at him, tugging her sights away from the span of her kitchen, 'brows rising. "What, you don't?" It's a genuine question, but she's aware it's perhaps not quite the same for him. "I mean, with work, maybe not. But even then, you don't mind when someone old and wrinkly books you? What if it's like a seventy-year old?" She wrinkles her nose with distaste at the idea.

"Maaaaybe you can tolerate it for a little bit, but you gotta be fucking with me if you're actually okay building a relationship with that much difference." Then again, seventy is double what's between her and Vesper, so eventually there's a line that isn't worth crossing. Still... "I've already got grey hairs Thorn, I'm gonna be like that to him some day. I'm gonna be complaining of aches and pains while he's in his prime, and he's not gonna know any of the shit I'm talking about from when I was young because he wasn't here for it." That thought gives her a pause.

"I actually don't even know if he had a childhood." Her features tighten with thought and confusion. "How the fuck does that work? How does he even know who he is without..." she sits up, forehead pressed against her hand before she grabs for Thorn's drink to take a sip, hers on some other counter. "What a mess."

She exhales slowly through her nose as Thorn tries to digest it all and lay it clean out. She listens attentively, but shakes her head at his suggestion. "I can't ask him that. I don't even know if he wants anything more, I'm just," she flourishes a hand in the air, gesturing at, well everything. "I just can't stop thinking, or feeling. I'd like it to stop." She glances across her shoulder at Thorn, one hand reaching out to grab his arms, fingers curling against him.

"How do you turn it off Thorn?" There's a scared sort of pleading in her face. Surely he's had a time or two where he's felt a little something for a client, he must have tricks to keep that burn from igniting. Gods help her, she can't make a fool of herself anymore than she has.

Maybe if she didn't appreciate every damn thing he did she could have been content to just soak up his attention in the desert, would have been able to do so here and there if it came up again. She could ignore age and Safrin and everything a bit easier if it's just something dumb and fun. Probably is just that, for him. Pretty? Sure, she can appreciate she's attractive enough to inspire Vesper, but it's more than the physical, it's everything he's done, everything more she wants him to do. It's too real, and she's the one who made it that way, and she wants to cut it out of her.

What if I was made for you and you were made for me
What if I just pulled you close, what if I leaned in
And the stars line up, and it's our last first kiss
What if I loved all these what ifs away

// the only heaven i'll be sent to —

Honestly, he would’ve also probably nearly shit his pants if someone revealed their lineage in such a fancy, flashy way. So it’s with his quiet chuckle at the idea of it - terrifying and wild - that the courtesan meets Colt’s gaze with a roll of his shoulders. “If it’s a seventy year old, then my job’s pretty easy huh?” He touts a little playfully, before he snorts and shakes his head. “Oldest one’ve my clients is a fifty-four year ol’ lady. She’s jus’… Real lonely. I help her ’n make her not feel so empty all the time.” Which is a nice way of putting it, he thinks, because she’s often in better spirits when she’s leaving, and Thorn? Well, he’s happy just knowing that he’d made her that way.

But that wasn’t a relationship, and Thorn’s shoulder’s shrug a little. “S’not a relationship, no. But like.. It’s not like you’re fifty years older than him. He’s.. What? Is it a gap of 8 years?” Giving Colt some credit, he doesn’t now her exact age, but she looks like she’s in the end of her twenties, early thirties? And for him, that’s only a five or six year gap. Wasn’t that bad in the grand scheme. Especially if everyone was old enough.

Giving her the margarita as she starts to question whether or not he had a childhood, that’s a whole other ordeal. He doesn’t know anyone that’s a child of the gods - not literally, anyway - and so with absolutely zero idea how that works, the courtesan is left chewing on the inside of his cheek as he considers it.

Puffing out a sigh and nodding, feeling the way her insides are twisted at the idea through what he can only assume to be empathy, the courtesan’s arm is offered up easily and he leans a little into her space to press his cheek to her hand. “I usually take a break. Or.. I mean, it’s my job but also.. fuckin’ someone else helps bury it for a minute or two.” He mutters, glancing over at her with a raised brow. “Or I hope I never see ‘em again.” This is the part he isn’t good at, because he didn’t tend to get attached, and when he did? Well…

Bad things happened and he’d moved to King’s End. It’s the reason the scar sits under his collarbone, capable of being healed into nothing, but Thorn keeps it there as a reminder while the rest of him is scar free.

thorn

— is when i'm alone with you //

COLT

What if I hurt you, what if I leave you
What if I find somebody else, and I don't need you
What if this goes south, what if I mess you up
What if I break your heart in two

She shakes her head again, insisting. "More than that, I think. Closer to ten years, maybe more? I'm..." she pauses, counting silently under her breath and moving her fingers faintly. "Thirty-three. No, fuck, just turned thirty-four last season?" So, sure, not the same as a seventy-year old, but still enough for the world to change in meaningful ways. "You really don't think that's a problem?" She chews on the edge of her lip, wondering now if she's been overly worried for nothing.

If so, that's still only one of too many problems, namely, what the fuck how did this happen to her?

She's grateful for Thorn's touch, a reminder that he's here, that it's not so bad, at least not for now. "Hmm, fucking someone else," she murmurs, a hand idly tugging on a strand of hair as she thinks. "I haven't tried since I got back, maybe that would help." Certainly helped her the days she tried to forget her late husband. Difference is, those were bad memories, and there was no threat of him showing up to trip her up again. Could she so easily forget the way his shadows teased her if she's lying with someone who can barely find the zipper to her pants?

She kept busy during the day, but at night, like he owned it, he'd come sweeping in to haunt her. She'd even catch herself looking out across her pastures, like she's waiting for him to walk up again, full of all that lazy grace and swagger. Pathetic.

"Easier said than done," she grimaces. "He knows where I am, so he can always find me. And, he's gonna be a bronc at the rodeo, so I'll be seeing him soon. Just trying to figure out how to be before then." She could keep herself busy at the rodeo, would be busy, could perhaps dodge him except for the lightest of conversation. Something light and innocent, she could do that, surely.

"Maybe time," she admits finally. "If I just keep it easy at the rodeo, and give it time, it'll fade. He likely won't have reason to come back here afterwards anyway." In the meantime, she could try finding someone who might distract her until that fade set in.

What if I was made for you and you were made for me
What if I just pulled you close, what if I leaned in
And the stars line up, and it's our last first kiss
What if I loved all these what ifs away

// the only heaven i'll be sent to —

His brows pinch as he glances at her – trying to see where the aging may have occurred. She’s older than he thought, but even still? As far as Thorn was concerned, if they were adults when they got together, well… That’s really it. There’d still need to be that understanding of the gap just in case, but for the most part, all’s well that ends well, right? “Nah, not if you already know it goin’ into it. An’ so long as he’s already old enough, I mean.. Where’s the harm, I guess?” Aside from her previous worries about not being able to relate to Vesper.

On that, he can’t really offer advice. So instead, he focuses on his suggestion of distraction, and for that Thorn nods. “Helped me out before.” He offers, returning to his chipper smile. And while he isn’t offering himself, per say, she does live close enough to a brothel if she wanted a decent roll in the hay as it were.

But then she’s telling him that he knows where she lives, that he’d be able to just appear if he wanted to on a whim, and for that Thorn’s attention flits toward the window of the kitchen as if checking to make sure Safrin’s son isn’t eavesdropping on their private little chat. Satisfied with seeing nothing out of place, he nudges her with his elbow and a crooked smile. “Unless he does really like ya, but I’m expectin’ another night of margarita’s if that’s the case.” He waggles his brows playfully, his bright smile twisting more playful.

thorn

— is when i'm alone with you //

COLT

What if I hurt you, what if I leave you
What if I find somebody else, and I don't need you
What if this goes south, what if I mess you up
What if I break your heart in two

As far as these matters are concerned, Thorn has her complete faith. So, while it still strikes a dissonant chord for her, the vibration of it lessens a bit, eased by Thorn's lack of concern. She tries to shrug it off, one problem to be free of, maybe one that was never there and she manifested as...what, an excuse? Like a scab she has to pick at until it bleeds, until it scars, that's how she handles most matters of the heart these days. She'd been caught lacking once before, and she vowed never to do so again, even if it meant creating trouble that's not even there just so she can pounce on it before it does so to her.

Still, the easing of one of the weights does not remove the rest, and the fact of the matter remains that she doesn't want the turbulence of all the feelings threatening her peace. She'd been perfectly content before she had shadows and blue eyes lingering at the edges of her thoughts. Maybe it'd been less thrilling than desert escapades, but it had been simple enough to let her rest at night. She nods then, her mind made up. "Alright then, that's what I'll do." She'd get over him, even if it took a nightly jaunt. Surely someone had the ability to cure here of this newfound fever.

As Thorn glances around, her gaze follows, peering into the dark like it's something familiar now. She huffs, preferring the glare of the lights. "The dogs would've alerted," she reassures, catching onto to what he's doing with a small laugh. "'Sides, I think the desert made us both a bit homesick for a while." She certainly does not desire to travel for a while. She sits up more properly, smiling at Thorn over her shoulder. "Definitely more margarita nights if that happens." She bumps against him, realizing she's been entirely selfish this entire time. "Anyway, enough about me. How was your night?"

She's content for his company as long as he'd give it to her, shooting the shit until they both started yawning and sleep finally called them to bid each other goodnight.

[FIN]

What if I was made for you and you were made for me
What if I just pulled you close, what if I leaned in
And the stars line up, and it's our last first kiss
What if I loved all these what ifs away