we're always running scared but holding knives
"Grimm will go easier on you soon whether she likes it or not," Isla hisses against Remi's lips, before her kisses descend back down the column of his throat where she can nestle her face and relax against him. At the same time, careful fingertips trace the patchwork of his skin, as if lamenting the terrible job done in putting him back together again.
As for her own body, Remi will find her frustratingly scar-free, besides the long, thin mark along her left wrist usually covered by clothing or her lab coat. "Caught it on a broken window, back when I was a wild young rebel," she explains with a grin.
And then it comes to the idioms, Isla raising her eyebrows and peeking up at him to hear the real meaning of the definition he'd brought up. "I like reheated soup," she protests. "Though we're only at the beginning of things here. Are we even soup yet?" She giggles.
As for her own body, Remi will find her frustratingly scar-free, besides the long, thin mark along her left wrist usually covered by clothing or her lab coat. "Caught it on a broken window, back when I was a wild young rebel," she explains with a grin.
And then it comes to the idioms, Isla raising her eyebrows and peeking up at him to hear the real meaning of the definition he'd brought up. "I like reheated soup," she protests. "Though we're only at the beginning of things here. Are we even soup yet?" She giggles.
Isla
