born with salt on my skin
“Oy, you sleepin’?!” she jokes with a tone a little too much like Jack’s, even though she means it with affection. Pausing, the women tilts her head, her hair brushing against the door frame. The teasin’ becomes far more sly and Raza smirks a bit, “Or you fuckin’?” Post-fucking. Whatever. It’s been a while since she’s had the luxury of sex whenever she wants it. Whatever he’s been doin’, she wishes it could wait, but it can’t. Back to her serious face, she nods - not too grimly, mind, but not with enthusiasm. “Aye. An’ as a council member, the shit I heard is your problem now.” A little tit for tat, perhaps, but again, not in a jealous way. She doesn’t have the same kind’a relationship with Sunjata that she had with Remi. And she doesn’t want the responsibility, really, not anymore. When the Hanged Man got beaten to pieces by the monsoon, Raz realized she’d rather stick to her secrets and smugglin’ than work for the government.
It was a nice experiment, but it ain’t for her.
and the sea in my blood
RAZA
