"Well ain't this a surprise."
You open the door shirtless, because it's fucking muggy and you know Raz well enough not to give a shit about decency. It's been a while since she came out to your threshold - used to be a regular thing, back when you weren't a widower and all - and you have to say you're more than a little surprised to find her there, a bottle of smooth whiskey in hand.
Raising the eyebrow now sliced by a scar, you hold the door open to let your friend in. You have confidence she'll make herself at home in your uncharacteristically clean house (thanks, Red) without any prompting from you.
Shutting the door, you head into the kitchen to grab a pair of glasses from off the highest shelf. 'Nice' china, which is to say actually made of glass. "You here on business or pleasure, Raz?"
Zephyr
you can be the ripest, juciest peach in the world
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
and there's still going to be someone who hates peaches
