acres of longing, mountains of tenderness
But of course it's our fault for not being better friends, Amalia agrees with her own amused bitterness, squirming to push herself up closer to Remi's hands and the potential of belly rubs. Her own aggravation with the Firebrand doesn't run nearly as deep as Remi's, but she enjoys the comradery of mutual irritation, the strange feeling of naturalness in lying on this bed and bitching.
Ronin's protest does absolutely nothing to make Amalia less indignant. I can cook, she points out, sticking her pink tongue out at the star at the implication he needs a superior chef in his life. Exhaling a heavy sigh, the Shield shuts her eyes. I just... as long as he can handle himself. I don't want to see anyone else die in the Climb.
Ronin's protest does absolutely nothing to make Amalia less indignant. I can cook, she points out, sticking her pink tongue out at the star at the implication he needs a superior chef in his life. Exhaling a heavy sigh, the Shield shuts her eyes. I just... as long as he can handle himself. I don't want to see anyone else die in the Climb.
Amalia
