A warm meal and a quiet night

CHULANE like a river flows surely to the sea He does his best to focus on the immediate task at hand - getting the fucking bedroom door open. It was difficult, for a number of reasons - the damn thing had decided that tonight, of all nights, it was going to be bitch to open, and also: her. She didn't have to put effort into, didn't have to pull him in for a kiss - he was so hyperaware of her, so entranced, so engaged that it wasn't until he had unlocked, re-locked and unlocked the door again that he realised just how much of an effect she was having on him. But open it he did, finally, and after taking both her hands in his they made their way inside, somehow managing to shut the door behind them before.. He looked at her, really looked. The intensity of his stare was greater than all other times before - he saw her. The room was relatively tidy, a pile of papers the only 'mess' on a small desk in the corner. He didn't have many belongings aside from the wintry clothes on his back the night he had arrived, and had only accumulated a few more local designs since then. The bed was comfortable, layered with blankets and pillows, and a small fireplace that was perpetually lit offered warmth against the frigid climes outside. Not that he needed much help keeping warm, at the moment. There was no public bar around them now, only them, in this moment, together. A hand reached to feel her form beneath her outermost cloak, to hold her waist, while the other moved along the back of her neck; He leaned in towards her, his lips seeking hers. some things are meant to be