Maeve
Well fuck. He really has been through it. Hearing such things puts her life into perspective. She doesn't watch people die here. She doesn't have to worry about loss. Nope, not her. She must just be that lucky. "If you used to do this job then you know that the way you look doesn't matter. Loser or not. Besides, no need to be so hard on yourself. I'm not judging." Maeve says with a hum, looking him over one more time just because she can. He's cute. Dark, a little scruffy and scared, but handsome. There are worse ways she could spend her time.
She stands, extending her hand to him and pulling him up if he takes it. "My name's Maeve. It's not fake either," she crosses her heart with her free hand and leads him towards a door that hides the stairs to the upper levels of the brothel. It's a fairly short walk to her room and she fills the silence with a question of her own, "So what's your name, love? Figured I should ask given that you're about to warm my bed for a bit." His request really isn't all that uncommon. At least not for her.
Maeve pushes open a door at the end of the hall, closing it behind them once he steps inside. The furniture is done in the same bleached wood as the rest of the rooms, but she's replaced the white linens for ones of deep purples, reds, and blacks. A soft breeze drifts in off the ocean through the open windows and there are a few sconces casting the room warm light. Maeve toes off her shoes and flops down onto the bed, tugging him down with her with a grin. "Make yourself comfortable. I won't bite."
She stands, extending her hand to him and pulling him up if he takes it. "My name's Maeve. It's not fake either," she crosses her heart with her free hand and leads him towards a door that hides the stairs to the upper levels of the brothel. It's a fairly short walk to her room and she fills the silence with a question of her own, "So what's your name, love? Figured I should ask given that you're about to warm my bed for a bit." His request really isn't all that uncommon. At least not for her.
Maeve pushes open a door at the end of the hall, closing it behind them once he steps inside. The furniture is done in the same bleached wood as the rest of the rooms, but she's replaced the white linens for ones of deep purples, reds, and blacks. A soft breeze drifts in off the ocean through the open windows and there are a few sconces casting the room warm light. Maeve toes off her shoes and flops down onto the bed, tugging him down with her with a grin. "Make yourself comfortable. I won't bite."
when you are not fed love on a silver spoon
you learn to lick it off of knives
you learn to lick it off of knives
