ISLA
There's another argument brewing on the tip of Isla's tongue, but she chooses not to skip down that particular conversational lane. Why Flora's mother would send her daughter sweaters when she lives in Torchline is just repeating her point, after all. And there are more interesting things to talk about besides. "I mean, it seemed off-putting to you, when I was roaring in your face as a raccoon," she points out, as if he might have forgotten.
Isla has not forgotten, though, and she can grin at the memory now. "Your cheeks were full of seeds," she recalls. Whether or not he'll find her reaction surprising is entirely up to Remi, but he'd just said he wouldn't mind a few surprises, so there.
Needing no encouragement to finish her drink (Isla is already well on her way to tipsy), the Remedy drains her glass and sets it delicately down - one does not slam a champagne flute - before clambering to her feet. "Alright, alright, lead the way." She beckons.
Isla has not forgotten, though, and she can grin at the memory now. "Your cheeks were full of seeds," she recalls. Whether or not he'll find her reaction surprising is entirely up to Remi, but he'd just said he wouldn't mind a few surprises, so there.
Needing no encouragement to finish her drink (Isla is already well on her way to tipsy), the Remedy drains her glass and sets it delicately down - one does not slam a champagne flute - before clambering to her feet. "Alright, alright, lead the way." She beckons.
she's a runner
rebel, and a stunner
rebel, and a stunner
