dahlia
You can't buy this fineness
"It sounds it," Dahlia replies, the words riding out on a sigh that mimics his own; a drag, a tedium, all this worry and strife, especially when there really doesn't need to be any. Her hand has whispered out to caress his cheek as he rises to stand, leaving her fingers trailing a warm line down his chest instead. With her knees parting now for him to stand between them, the smile she offers the Flood is positively beatific, a rose in full bloom of the sunshine.
"Perhaps," she says gently, "we should focus more on you than on them." Double entendre much? "What I mean to say is that convincing them may seem too much for now. You need not fight my corner so fervently, though I do appreciate it. No, for now why not simply keep telling them the truth about how you experienced things? Either they believe you or they do not. But you are still here, in one piece, and looking better than ever, if I might say so. Not a hair on your head was harmed from meeting with me."
"Perhaps," she says gently, "we should focus more on you than on them." Double entendre much? "What I mean to say is that convincing them may seem too much for now. You need not fight my corner so fervently, though I do appreciate it. No, for now why not simply keep telling them the truth about how you experienced things? Either they believe you or they do not. But you are still here, in one piece, and looking better than ever, if I might say so. Not a hair on your head was harmed from meeting with me."
Let me see the heat get to it
