candlewax & polaroids on the hardwood floor
"You hush," Flora calls down, loud enough to echo off her gloriously over-decorated stairwell. "It’s not shit, it’s curated." Whe descends a moment later, bare legs flashing with each step, her aqua gaze sweeps the room, catching the open freezer, the countertop carnage of mismatched spoons, and Kaisel standing mid-scoop like he’s just been caught robbing a bank made of cream and frozen sugar.
She squints at him. "Are you… planning on eating all of them?" One brow arches with mock outrage. "You know there’s only two of us, right?" She breezes past him regardless, brushing his arm with hers as she lifts the strawberry container out of his reach and inspects the damage. A dramatic little tsk leaves her lips. "This one’s barely clinging to life."
She digs her own spoon into it anyway.
Then, turning to face him fully, she leans her hip against the counter and eyes him up and down, lips curling in amusement. "Okay, first of all: chaos gremlin couture doesn’t require curtains. But I’m not not intrigued by that visual." Her grin widens like sunlight catching mischief. "Really it’s just... whatever’s closest and vaguely inappropriate for public viewing. I think I have a sequinned caftan from a masquerade night somewhere in the closet." Her eyes narrow slightly. "Though, given your shoulders, we might have to cut arm holes. Or we could make you a toga out of some old bed sheets?"
I'M SO JEALOUS.
She squints at him. "Are you… planning on eating all of them?" One brow arches with mock outrage. "You know there’s only two of us, right?" She breezes past him regardless, brushing his arm with hers as she lifts the strawberry container out of his reach and inspects the damage. A dramatic little tsk leaves her lips. "This one’s barely clinging to life."
She digs her own spoon into it anyway.
Then, turning to face him fully, she leans her hip against the counter and eyes him up and down, lips curling in amusement. "Okay, first of all: chaos gremlin couture doesn’t require curtains. But I’m not not intrigued by that visual." Her grin widens like sunlight catching mischief. "Really it’s just... whatever’s closest and vaguely inappropriate for public viewing. I think I have a sequinned caftan from a masquerade night somewhere in the closet." Her eyes narrow slightly. "Though, given your shoulders, we might have to cut arm holes. Or we could make you a toga out of some old bed sheets?"
I'M SO JEALOUS.
