AURELIA
and my hands aren't clean
maybe they never will be
maybe they never will be
Aurelia lets out a mumbled, nervous laugh at the tease, but makes no attempt to respond. She shouldn't, anyway. Instead she busies another hit from her cigarette, still set to her mouth, and breathes it out in one hovering cloud.
That's it, then. This is over. They can go their separate ways; she can forget this ever happened and avoid Maeve like the plague. In truth, she's not sure if that plan is as foolproof as it sounds in her head. Something about this mysterious woman who appeared in the dead of Longnight makes her want to know more. Where is she from? What does she do?
But Maeve doesn't seem so eager to leave. And if Aurelia truly is, why are her feet still planted firmly to the spot? Even when she leans in over the post, so close that Aurelia dares to dip her gaze down her low-cut shirt. A hand reaches for her and, by now, Aurelia knows the intention behind it is good, at least, so she doesn't instinctively flinch away.
She swallows a lump in her throat. Smoke from the cigarette Maeve's now holding curls around her nose as she leans in a little. In spite of everything else, a flirtatious edge spikes low tones, "And what are you going to give me?"
That's it, then. This is over. They can go their separate ways; she can forget this ever happened and avoid Maeve like the plague. In truth, she's not sure if that plan is as foolproof as it sounds in her head. Something about this mysterious woman who appeared in the dead of Longnight makes her want to know more. Where is she from? What does she do?
But Maeve doesn't seem so eager to leave. And if Aurelia truly is, why are her feet still planted firmly to the spot? Even when she leans in over the post, so close that Aurelia dares to dip her gaze down her low-cut shirt. A hand reaches for her and, by now, Aurelia knows the intention behind it is good, at least, so she doesn't instinctively flinch away.
She swallows a lump in her throat. Smoke from the cigarette Maeve's now holding curls around her nose as she leans in a little. In spite of everything else, a flirtatious edge spikes low tones, "And what are you going to give me?"
but they can still carry you home
when you're ready to sleep
when you're ready to sleep
