Flora
Flora would live in this moment if she could, revelling in the delicious pressure of Enzo's arms around her, not minding at all the way she had to sip for air because of the way her lungs were pressed inward from his grip. She didn't care, and never would. In the days and months and, hard as it is to even think of, years to come, she'll remember this moment always. The way it was the very last time Enzo had held her.
When he's gone, the girl is gasping for breath in an entirely new way. Mort's sunny presence stops her from the theatrics they might have otherwise expected of her: screaming for Mort to take her, running into the light-filled doorway, or tugging out fistfuls of Mateo's curls. Instead, she merely stands with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, biting hard at the inside of her lip. "I'll live the best life for you, so you'd better watch." Then, flushing, she quickly adds. "Eww, but not all the time, you weirdo."
When he's gone, the girl is gasping for breath in an entirely new way. Mort's sunny presence stops her from the theatrics they might have otherwise expected of her: screaming for Mort to take her, running into the light-filled doorway, or tugging out fistfuls of Mateo's curls. Instead, she merely stands with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, biting hard at the inside of her lip. "I'll live the best life for you, so you'd better watch." Then, flushing, she quickly adds. "Eww, but not all the time, you weirdo."
