Oh, darling, if I ever cross your mind
It’s the last thing he expects to find, really, when he hears the slump at his door. He’d just finished a shift, was in the process of changing post-shower, hair still wet and a touch limp around his face, his body and face flushed from the shower and still from his client just before.
The door opens, brows lifting to see her, a towel wrapped around his waist. “Colt!” He chimes, shooting her a bright smile that’s pleased to see her even if he’s confused as to why she’s here. Shouldn’t she be in the desert?
Either way, he beckons her in, leaving the door open for her as he steps further into his room. His bed is plush with down pillows and soft furs and silken sheets, ruffled because he hadn’t made it before he’d gotten a start on the day. The rest of his room is decked out in paintings on every wall of varying environments, everything from the Oerwoud’s vibrant plantlife to the sunset of Torchline and the sunrise of Halo throughout. Clothes are draped essentially everywhere, a mirror with jewelry set on the mahogany desk alongside sticks of eyeliner in varying shades.
His back to her, she’d get a good view of his tattoos that trail up his arm from his wrist, curling around his biceps and dragging down his back to his lower back in an especially floral tramp stamp. “Sorry ‘bout the mess.” He says, trying to pick up a few of the clothes he’d discarded in the process of hopping in the shower immediately.
The door opens, brows lifting to see her, a towel wrapped around his waist. “Colt!” He chimes, shooting her a bright smile that’s pleased to see her even if he’s confused as to why she’s here. Shouldn’t she be in the desert?
Either way, he beckons her in, leaving the door open for her as he steps further into his room. His bed is plush with down pillows and soft furs and silken sheets, ruffled because he hadn’t made it before he’d gotten a start on the day. The rest of his room is decked out in paintings on every wall of varying environments, everything from the Oerwoud’s vibrant plantlife to the sunset of Torchline and the sunrise of Halo throughout. Clothes are draped essentially everywhere, a mirror with jewelry set on the mahogany desk alongside sticks of eyeliner in varying shades.
His back to her, she’d get a good view of his tattoos that trail up his arm from his wrist, curling around his biceps and dragging down his back to his lower back in an especially floral tramp stamp. “Sorry ‘bout the mess.” He says, trying to pick up a few of the clothes he’d discarded in the process of hopping in the shower immediately.
Hawthorn
Won't you let me know?
