names so deep and names so true
After speaking with Phoebe the Eye had decided to partake in the Halenani's offerings. With a heart withered away to nothingness but a body still virile and demanding, a brothel is the perfect place for such a man to find satisfaction. There are no questions, no attempts at adoration or love. Just hands where they ought to be, tongues lavishing what they're pulled across, and skin that rises to strong fingers.
Exiting, the jacket of his collar pulled up against the rain, Cian appears to have eyes only for the elaborate cigarette case he pulls from his pocket. Placing one between his lips and reaching for his lighter, the Eye's brilliant denim gaze is momentarily transformed into flame by the simple flick of a mechanism that lights the end of an expertly rolled cigarette. "Finn." It isn't just on observation of the man's presence, despite the fact that Cian hasn't looked at all like he's seen him. There is disappointment in the word making it heavy sounding despite Cian's accent.
Hollowing his cheeks as he tags a long and slow drag of his cigarette, eventually, the Eye turns to gaze upon the awkward man, awaiting an explanation.
Exiting, the jacket of his collar pulled up against the rain, Cian appears to have eyes only for the elaborate cigarette case he pulls from his pocket. Placing one between his lips and reaching for his lighter, the Eye's brilliant denim gaze is momentarily transformed into flame by the simple flick of a mechanism that lights the end of an expertly rolled cigarette. "Finn." It isn't just on observation of the man's presence, despite the fact that Cian hasn't looked at all like he's seen him. There is disappointment in the word making it heavy sounding despite Cian's accent.
Hollowing his cheeks as he tags a long and slow drag of his cigarette, eventually, the Eye turns to gaze upon the awkward man, awaiting an explanation.
THE EYE
they're blood to me they're dust to you
