[ God, even she has to admit, yeah, he's a huge fucking thorn in her side, the sharp point being that smile of his. If she has a pull, then he has a practical tug to him, one that makes it impossible for her to simply leave him be. She'd be lying if she said that she wasn't attracted to him, also, but she's never been one to so easily admit something like that out loud.
Grabbing her mug, she goes against her better judgement and makes her way over to the couch, sitting down next to him. Putting the coffee down onto the table, she knots her fingers together in her lap and heaves the heaviest sigh known to man. She likely looks even more tired from this close proximity, and the streetlights that cast long shadows across her face through the window underscore this fact. ]
Such a mouthy bastard.
[ She spews insults because she doesn't know how else to respond. She feels naked and vulnerable every time he opens his smart mouth, especially when it comes to calling her out on the things she's doing her best to keep inside. ]
Who the hell would have a crush on you? You're not even cute. [ Her voice is deadpan, but she's looking him in the eye when she says it. Her expression belies her words, however, her eyes following the fingers that trace along that unseen scar at the back of his neck. She isn't aware of its existence, but she's fairly certain that his body is ribboned with old wounds beneath his clothes. He carries himself like someone who's seen battle, and it's part of the reason why she's so intrigued by him. ]
no subject
Grabbing her mug, she goes against her better judgement and makes her way over to the couch, sitting down next to him. Putting the coffee down onto the table, she knots her fingers together in her lap and heaves the heaviest sigh known to man. She likely looks even more tired from this close proximity, and the streetlights that cast long shadows across her face through the window underscore this fact. ]
Such a mouthy bastard.
[ She spews insults because she doesn't know how else to respond. She feels naked and vulnerable every time he opens his smart mouth, especially when it comes to calling her out on the things she's doing her best to keep inside. ]
Who the hell would have a crush on you? You're not even cute. [ Her voice is deadpan, but she's looking him in the eye when she says it. Her expression belies her words, however, her eyes following the fingers that trace along that unseen scar at the back of his neck. She isn't aware of its existence, but she's fairly certain that his body is ribboned with old wounds beneath his clothes. He carries himself like someone who's seen battle, and it's part of the reason why she's so intrigued by him. ]