we're always running scared but holding knives
Feeling her stomach flop with something very similar to butterflies (were Isla the sort to believe in such a thing), the doctor inhales a steady breath and lets it out again, before shifting to aim a kiss against his cheek. "And I never intend to." She punctuates the discussion with a further kiss towards his lips, and if they're caught in the sweetness of each other for another moment or two, so be it.
Parting from Remi enough to peer down at the scar tissue that mars his chest, Isla, brushes her thumb across a particualrly gnarled bit of skin. "But it healed," she murmurs. "Perfect things have never had to try at anything. This is proof you've surivived." Whether that will help the reality of his situation remains to be seen.
And besides, there are idioms to decipher. Hmming under her breath, Isla concedes the paintbrush remark and instead moves on to reheated soup of all things. "Does it mean that two people are well acquainted, maybe?" she asks. "Or... perhaps they discuss the same things over and over?"
Parting from Remi enough to peer down at the scar tissue that mars his chest, Isla, brushes her thumb across a particualrly gnarled bit of skin. "But it healed," she murmurs. "Perfect things have never had to try at anything. This is proof you've surivived." Whether that will help the reality of his situation remains to be seen.
And besides, there are idioms to decipher. Hmming under her breath, Isla concedes the paintbrush remark and instead moves on to reheated soup of all things. "Does it mean that two people are well acquainted, maybe?" she asks. "Or... perhaps they discuss the same things over and over?"
Isla
