flora
Flora has to laugh at that, shaking her head as she pulls the sheets more securely around herself. "Fine," she concedes, a crooked smile playing at her lips, "I’ve got a list. But it’s not exhaustive, and if we only get one more shot at this..." Her voice softens, humour thinning out into something rawer. "I’d rather not fuck it up by being hasty." For however much Jack was clearly putting in the effort right now, she doubted if his patience would abide a constant stream of oh yeah, and one more thing..as the weeks went on.
When he teases her words back at her, Flora lets her head loll to the side, curls falling like a curtain over one shoulder,while her mind does the dicapro snapping gif. "Okay, well—there’s a good example," she murmurs. Frustration prickles like thorns at the edge of her thoughts, not sharp at him but at the strangeness of his magic, at the way it sometimes made her feel like a book cracked open without knowing which page he’d read, and sometimes like a treatise that had gone unnoticed. "Sometimes thinking things is enough, and sometimes it isn’t. And I never know which one it’s going to be. You’ll pluck something right out of me without blinking, and then other times it’s like if I don’t say it out loud, it doesn’t count." She sighs, pressing her cheek briefly into the fabric bunched against her shoulder, as if the sheet might ground her.
As Jack dresses, Flora hugs the glass of rum against her chest, watching the buttons slip into place. "I think that’s fine," she says at last, voice steady, though her gaze is fixed on the amber glow of the liquor. "It never bothered me before, I don't think? Except when you fucked off just because you were angry at me." Her eyes lift then, meeting his with a steady brightness. "If we’re together, then we’re together. That means you still come home to me, even if you’re mad."
When he teases her words back at her, Flora lets her head loll to the side, curls falling like a curtain over one shoulder,
As Jack dresses, Flora hugs the glass of rum against her chest, watching the buttons slip into place. "I think that’s fine," she says at last, voice steady, though her gaze is fixed on the amber glow of the liquor. "It never bothered me before, I don't think? Except when you fucked off just because you were angry at me." Her eyes lift then, meeting his with a steady brightness. "If we’re together, then we’re together. That means you still come home to me, even if you’re mad."
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
