we're always running scared but holding knives
"Same," Isla murmurs, deciding not to say that's kind of why I came here because at this point it would just be catty. And hell, maybe she'd have said it anyway if it weren't for the fact that Remi looks like someone has just died. She doesn't need to squish herself anywhere more than she already has, letting the Lullaby squeeze past without making eye contact.
And that ought to be it, if it weren't for Remi speaking up again. "No, I don't. I haven't for a while," she murmurs, glancing back at him. "Why, is that a problem?" He'd returned her vial of fluid - she hadn't expected this to be the thing that snags him in the conversation. "I couldn't keep it forever. Things are getting bad."
And that ought to be it, if it weren't for Remi speaking up again. "No, I don't. I haven't for a while," she murmurs, glancing back at him. "Why, is that a problem?" He'd returned her vial of fluid - she hadn't expected this to be the thing that snags him in the conversation. "I couldn't keep it forever. Things are getting bad."
Isla
