Isla
"Far be it for me to make you into a fool, Everest," Isla trills after him, settling down to try and sketch out the map while he goes to take care of his sunburn. Indeed, had this been a scene from one of Mateo's books, perhaps Isla would have been sitting on the edge of the desk when he returns, map in hand, a pair of librarian-esque spectacles on her nose. Maybe her skirt would be scandalously short, or her shirt buttoned a touch too low. Shame.
As it stands, the murmur of thanks makes her jump more than anything, the Remedy having been concentrating far too much on the map to notice his return, and she steps back and almost directly into his chest (perhaps stepping on a toe accidentally as she goes). "Fuck," she says through a laugh. "Gods, I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd come back."
Clearing her throat and gesturing to the parchment on the table, she decides the map is about as good as it will ever be. "There. That should help, I hope."
As it stands, the murmur of thanks makes her jump more than anything, the Remedy having been concentrating far too much on the map to notice his return, and she steps back and almost directly into his chest (perhaps stepping on a toe accidentally as she goes). "Fuck," she says through a laugh. "Gods, I'm sorry. I didn't know you'd come back."
Clearing her throat and gesturing to the parchment on the table, she decides the map is about as good as it will ever be. "There. That should help, I hope."
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard
When you hit me, hit me hard
