Iskra
BREATHE IT IN, IT'S JUST SNOW, WE'RE JUST FALLING
WE WON'T ALWAYS FREE FALL BACK TO NOTHING
While normally merciful and considerate with his jokes and playfulness, he couldn't deny the warmth that spread through him when he watched her visibly squirm under the topic at hand. His confusion and flippant recollections of the literary possibility gradually melted into a wan smile. He slowed his words, realizing halfway through when her blush flared against her cheeks, vibrant and fast, as if a light under a red lampshade had been turned on. His grin grew nearly as quickly, and he leaned his head back against a hand propped up on the table, languid with this newfound weakness of the otherwise infallible doctor. WE WON'T ALWAYS FREE FALL BACK TO NOTHING
"I see," he murmured in response to her hasty clarification. A pause, his earthen eyes sweeping the contours of her face in consideration of just how much blush he wanted to elicit. "What is your, professional assessment of such books?" His eyes flashed with laughter as they skipped from her eyes to her cheeks. "I mean, I'm curious about the people who would indulge in these fantasies. Is it a testament to what women want, or is it just certain women? And the people who write them... do you think they have husbands to help them act out the scenes, or is it someone they employ perhaps, to keep work and home separated?" He rubbed at his beard as if in thought. "Maybe it's the readers that do the acting out?"
I'M JUST STARTING TO LEARN
I'VE ALWAYS BEEN CHASING GHOSTS
I'VE ALWAYS BEEN CHASING GHOSTS
