MILO
the hope and the hurt has lived inside of me
but there's gold in the dirt
but there's gold in the dirt
The smile that crosses her face is worth every moment as he describes why he’d chosen the weapons for her gift. And while he does so, he idly runs his fingers along his bracelet again, smoothing over the seaglass and the cord that ties ti all together. He only stops when she sets them in the box and tells him that she loves them, the smile that reflects on his face is wide from her own. She reaches for him and he goes to her easily, his arms wrapping around her as his hand finds the small of her back and the other wraps a bit more fully around her to press her against him as she pulls him into a short kiss again.
Her thanks is met with soft, appreciative honeyed eyes as he offers a slow nod of his head, slow enough his nose can brush against her own with the movement. “Yer welcome.” He offers quietly, content to remain this way, stealing quiet kisses. She has other ideas, however, releasing him as he releases her and tugs him along to her bag again. He sits idly by while she rummages around, glasses grabbed and a plate.
Milo stays silent while she pulls apart the orange, a red brow raising curiously as she grabs a bottle of wine. It isn’t labeled as anything he can remember, and he can’t tell the color from anything else he’s tried. So of course, for show, as she hands it to him he sniffs it as if he’s checking for some sort of poison – of course, amused – before their glasses are clinking together and he dives in for a sip.
It’s… refeshing on his tongue, and he can’t help the soft smile that crosses his face with it. “How’dya make a rambutan inta wine?” He asks after he’s swallowed, peering at the bottle as if it might hold the secrets of it. The cinnamon is a nice touch, warm on his tongue and still giving it a bit of a sweet bite, before his gaze lands on her face again and he reaches out to pull her close to him again as they lean against the counter. “I told ya I was a runner.” He offers, flashing her a playful winning smile. “Rather not wanna fight if I don’ haveta.” He admits with a softer edge to his tone. “But I guess it means if ya hurt yerself I can help ya out.” This is said a bit more playfully, a wink thrown her way.
Her thanks is met with soft, appreciative honeyed eyes as he offers a slow nod of his head, slow enough his nose can brush against her own with the movement. “Yer welcome.” He offers quietly, content to remain this way, stealing quiet kisses. She has other ideas, however, releasing him as he releases her and tugs him along to her bag again. He sits idly by while she rummages around, glasses grabbed and a plate.
Milo stays silent while she pulls apart the orange, a red brow raising curiously as she grabs a bottle of wine. It isn’t labeled as anything he can remember, and he can’t tell the color from anything else he’s tried. So of course, for show, as she hands it to him he sniffs it as if he’s checking for some sort of poison – of course, amused – before their glasses are clinking together and he dives in for a sip.
It’s… refeshing on his tongue, and he can’t help the soft smile that crosses his face with it. “How’dya make a rambutan inta wine?” He asks after he’s swallowed, peering at the bottle as if it might hold the secrets of it. The cinnamon is a nice touch, warm on his tongue and still giving it a bit of a sweet bite, before his gaze lands on her face again and he reaches out to pull her close to him again as they lean against the counter. “I told ya I was a runner.” He offers, flashing her a playful winning smile. “Rather not wanna fight if I don’ haveta.” He admits with a softer edge to his tone. “But I guess it means if ya hurt yerself I can help ya out.” This is said a bit more playfully, a wink thrown her way.
i never took the time to see
but i knew of its worth
but i knew of its worth
