ISLA
"Mm, we wouldn't want to be irresponsible. Not when this is only our second outing together," Isla muses, though the heat in her cheeks and the mischief in her voice very much suggests that she'd like nothing more than to scatter their plans to the wind and to be irresponsible with Ever. Alas, the aviator is a master of subtle flirtation, and though an entire cloud of butterflies feel as though they're taking flight in her belly, Isla nods her agreement. "That sounds very logical," she says, falling into step with him towards the next stall, his arm firm and guiding around her waist without ever feeling like too much.
(Gods but she wants it to feel like too much, though).
And as he speaks next, it takes a second or two before she registers the unmistakeable double meaning in his words, pebble blue eyes narrowing a fraction. "Perhaps some samples of this?" she suggests, gesturing to some polished walnut, before her hand drops to rest atop his own around her waist. "I feel as though I prefer hardwood," she quips, casting a sidelong glance at him.
(Gods but she wants it to feel like too much, though).
And as he speaks next, it takes a second or two before she registers the unmistakeable double meaning in his words, pebble blue eyes narrowing a fraction. "Perhaps some samples of this?" she suggests, gesturing to some polished walnut, before her hand drops to rest atop his own around her waist. "I feel as though I prefer hardwood," she quips, casting a sidelong glance at him.
apres moi le deluge
after me comes the flood
after me comes the flood
