making me feel glad that I'm not you

Morgan

Snakes are biting at my heels
The worries that refuse to let us go

Morgan let out a lightly embarrassed laugh, unsure of how to take the insistence that she was a storyteller; at least he wasn't trying to call her beautiful again. Deciding to go along with it, she mimed the glass with him, giving a cheers; it made her think of how long it had been since she'd done it in real life, sat in a bar with her guards and sang and drank the night away.

"...Tales of adventure that end happily. There's enough misery in the real world." Escapism wasn't something she indulged in often, but when she could Morgan definitely appreciated the chance to go somewhere else through words. There were, also, a couple of romance novels under her bed; those were never going to be discussed with anyone, especially not Saiden.

That he was a chef was a surprise. Morgan had decided he was likely a smuggler or prostitute, from his attitude; perhaps she had assumed too quickly. "Who do you cook for?"

I've been kicking them away
Been hoping not to let them take control