Isla
"Baby," Isla informs him affectionately, giving him a nod that he can go ahead and put his shirt back on. It's a good thing, too, that the medic is well accustomed to seeing bodies as just that; because as gay and unavailable as Remi might be, he still possesses the sort of physique that sculptors want to carve out of marble. "I thought you just informed me that you couldn't get yourself killed any more," she protests as she scoots back to let him sit up properly.
(She doesn't protest too hard though, of course, because then he might change his mind about her coming along). About to say something else, Isla is cut off by his touch, and she manages a huff and a begrudging sigh of agreement, nodding to Remi. "Thank you. I appreciate that," she murmurs. "So will it just be the two of us?"
(She doesn't protest too hard though, of course, because then he might change his mind about her coming along). About to say something else, Isla is cut off by his touch, and she manages a huff and a begrudging sigh of agreement, nodding to Remi. "Thank you. I appreciate that," she murmurs. "So will it just be the two of us?"
sooner or later, we all have to wake
and try forgetting everything
and try forgetting everything
