flora
As Jack shifts, Flora's cheek sinks deeper into the pillow as she gazes up at him, teeth catching the inside of her lip to try and suppress the smile that threatens at his reminder of the flowers. It shouldn’t make her want to laugh, but it does, light and bright, and yet beneath the fizz of it, her chest aches with the uncomfortable truth that none of the reasons they’d ended things had vanished. They hadn’t stopped loving each other, but love, as they'd pointed out at the House of Midnight, had never been enough to keep them from breaking. The sex only makes the edges blurrier, the closeness of him against her reminding her of how much she misses more than just his body.
Her gaze lingers on his for a moment, and she doesn’t need to be a telepath to catch the weight behind his words—she’s known Jack too long not to hear the offer beneath the casual veneer. Still, it leaves her feeling unsteady, this being a tightrope that she feels wildly unprepared to try and walk on. Swallowing down the swell of wanting, she forces out a laugh meant to sound breezy. "One reason," she murmurs, tilting her head toward the torn state of her lingerie, "is that I can’t exactly go parading through Stormbreak in this." Her hand lifts from his back and flicks vaguely toward her body, a huff of amusement covering the fact that the thought of staying—really staying—is dangerous in ways a ripped slip of silk could never be. Jack had sent every last one of her belongings packing in one of their more explosive fights, and she doubts there’s even a stray bobby pin of hers left aboard the Ark to cover her now.
Her gaze lingers on his for a moment, and she doesn’t need to be a telepath to catch the weight behind his words—she’s known Jack too long not to hear the offer beneath the casual veneer. Still, it leaves her feeling unsteady, this being a tightrope that she feels wildly unprepared to try and walk on. Swallowing down the swell of wanting, she forces out a laugh meant to sound breezy. "One reason," she murmurs, tilting her head toward the torn state of her lingerie, "is that I can’t exactly go parading through Stormbreak in this." Her hand lifts from his back and flicks vaguely toward her body, a huff of amusement covering the fact that the thought of staying—really staying—is dangerous in ways a ripped slip of silk could never be. Jack had sent every last one of her belongings packing in one of their more explosive fights, and she doubts there’s even a stray bobby pin of hers left aboard the Ark to cover her now.
you're under the feeling like teenagers in cars
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
it ain't robbing or stealing if the moment is ours
