The mention of Clarisse’s jacket — likewise bundled up on the boat, ready to be hand-delivered later today (although it will not end up being necessary to go to her) — makes her laugh, the loose curls not drawn back into her sleep braids bouncing around her face as she leans into his hand, lowering hers only so she can set the sewing kit down nearby them in the rest of the gifting chaos. “I nearly— I was going to ask you about camouflage, but I didn’t want to open that conversation—”
the one she had instead started with Loxley is sooooo handsome and nearly given the man heart failure,
“—can you show me what ‘camo’ is meant to look like? And while you’re drawing it do you recall being inside me recently? And I couldn’t ask Abby, because she would obviously say, why haven’t you asked Stephen, have you not talked to him yet, and I would walk into the sea.”
At that point, obviously, her only recourse.
Her newly freed hand comes to his wrist and she slides her thumb, fondly, against the inside of it, up to his palm, “I wouldn’t have been displeased,” she says, “with flowers or a necklace. But I love that you know what I need.”
That he knows her; that he knows her this well, and loves her this much.
no subject
the one she had instead started with Loxley is sooooo handsome and nearly given the man heart failure,
“—can you show me what ‘camo’ is meant to look like? And while you’re drawing it do you recall being inside me recently? And I couldn’t ask Abby, because she would obviously say, why haven’t you asked Stephen, have you not talked to him yet, and I would walk into the sea.”
At that point, obviously, her only recourse.
Her newly freed hand comes to his wrist and she slides her thumb, fondly, against the inside of it, up to his palm, “I wouldn’t have been displeased,” she says, “with flowers or a necklace. But I love that you know what I need.”
That he knows her; that he knows her this well, and loves her this much.