a fly on the wall

If Wessex had been drinking, she’d have done a spit-take. No one calls Wessex beautiful.And that’s fine, she’s learned to take other words as compliments, but in her eyes there is nothing beautiful about her. Laughing - and for the first time in their entire conversation, genuinely amused - she waves off the compliment with a languid wrist flicks. “Well that’s how I know you’re both full of shit and will do just fine out there.” There isn’t however, any denial that she’s into him. Not-not into him, smooshed together with apathy and a preoccupation with responsibility isn’t the most convincing mix. And pretty boys are always trouble. Always. Anyone related to Nate is probably triply so. Still - he offers himself up. And Wessex isn’t one to leave a power on the table. Rising with an ethereal grace (it’s intentional), her steps are more like glides as she clears the space between them quickly and with only a quick glance to make sure he’s still okay with it, sinks her teeth into his wrist. WESSEX come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts unsex me here