Isla
"A tradition? That sounds fun," Isla says with a smile, leaning into his side and raising an eyebrow as she watches him slurp at the obviously scalding cocoa. "So elegant," she purrs into his ear, kissing his cheek as if that will soothe the protesting of his sensors. Tucked against him as she is, the medic's free hand slips around to work itself into Varus's back pocket, Isla enjoying the glitter of lights off the cold ocean and the quiet peace of their closeness.
"We did," she says with a smile and a nod. "You could add sea salt, or caramel, or mint. And to that you could always add a little bit of whiskey." Gods, she misses it. Sighing and gazing up at him, she takes a cautious sip of her drink. "If you could go to a restaurant and taste something, what would you order?"
"We did," she says with a smile and a nod. "You could add sea salt, or caramel, or mint. And to that you could always add a little bit of whiskey." Gods, she misses it. Sighing and gazing up at him, she takes a cautious sip of her drink. "If you could go to a restaurant and taste something, what would you order?"
I'll take a bruise, I know you're worth it
When you hit me, hit me hard
When you hit me, hit me hard
