so much of our lives is just carving through the dark
"The secret is safe with me," Isla confirms with a gentle laugh, more than happy to settle herself in Ever's lap, an arm curling around his shoulders and her free hand whispering across his cheek. She has no doubt in her mind that the aviator is taking her seriously, but Isla is no stranger, either, to the effect he has on her (and she on him in return), and so even as he suggests she accompany him, she's already shifting to sit astride him on the chair.
"We can go tomorrow," she decides with a nod. "Thank you, for letting me do this." Poke and prod examine him, though it appears increasingly evident that the aviator has not minded the attention at all. "And for talking to me about it. I already feel better." If nothing else, Ever doesn't appear immediately in danger, and in all the time she's known him he hasn't been a frothing void monster trying to infect others.
And so there's comparatively little concern in her thoughts as she leans in for a kiss, all thoughts of dinner vanishing in lieu of the here and now.
"We can go tomorrow," she decides with a nod. "Thank you, for letting me do this." Poke and prod examine him, though it appears increasingly evident that the aviator has not minded the attention at all. "And for talking to me about it. I already feel better." If nothing else, Ever doesn't appear immediately in danger, and in all the time she's known him he hasn't been a frothing void monster trying to infect others.
And so there's comparatively little concern in her thoughts as she leans in for a kiss, all thoughts of dinner vanishing in lieu of the here and now.
