( Never liked it. And he has to laugh, perishable, dispersing. A life's carefully manicured performance, and all Sumeragi Subaru can spare him is... light, Promethean. Small mercy. He bridges the distance, a blistering inhalation signing off his approval.
His cigarette wakes. The initial kick of nicotine rouses a petty moan, a pale taming of his feature. He looks from under the umbrella of blood-stitched lashes. )
no subject
His cigarette wakes. The initial kick of nicotine rouses a petty moan, a pale taming of his feature. He looks from under the umbrella of blood-stitched lashes. )
You'll hurt my feelings.