Just one, [ she promises, and her hand finds his a little easier when her gaze escapes his.
just one, as she stumbles back harmlessly in her bid to pull him from his seat, to the dance floor reserved for people who aren't them, who've never killed someone or died trying. his hand is calloused in ways hers aren't, scarred, and malkuth wishes vaguely she had the time to map them out like she might the structure of a building, from foundation to the decor.
just as vaguely, she pauses and looks at his face; she remembers touching that too, now, the same lack of hesitation and buzzing mind. ]
no subject
just one, as she stumbles back harmlessly in her bid to pull him from his seat, to the dance floor reserved for people who aren't them, who've never killed someone or died trying. his hand is calloused in ways hers aren't, scarred, and malkuth wishes vaguely she had the time to map them out like she might the structure of a building, from foundation to the decor.
just as vaguely, she pauses and looks at his face; she remembers touching that too, now, the same lack of hesitation and buzzing mind. ]
... You're like the train rings.
[ fucking nonsense ]