[se] different tomorrows

EVIE

With the rhythm they set he does most of the cutting and she the rolling, but she doesn’t mind in the least. The shapes she desires find themselves created regardless; mostly landsharks, of course, since the one depicting herself is unfairly hoarded on his side of the counter. Which makes sense when he goes to use it and the tenuous tip of her doughy head is dismembered. Gasping in outrage she reaches for the shark’s tail fin, ripping it free once it’s placed down and popping it into her own mouth. “Oops, guess you’ll have to redo it,” she comments innocently, her tone entirely at odds with her sharp grin.

Which, admittedly, probably doesn’t inspire confidence in him even as she genuinely offers him the doughy spoon. Playful offense flickers across her face as his eyes narrow and his hand reaches past her sugary olive branch, and so she dances backwards out of his reach, dropping the spoon back inside the bowl so she can wrap both arms possessively around it. “I’m hurt! If you don’t trust me, no dough for you,” she declares imperiously, nose rising with a sniff of feigned disdain. And then, just to emphasize the point, she scoops a bit out with her thumb and pops it into her mouth, uttering a soft moan of appreciation for the taste - and the secondary pleasure of having denied the same for Deimos n

Don't look up, just let them think
There's no place else you'd rather be