WE SLEEP IN THE ABSTRACT ; we live in the norm with shivers of the supernatural coiling like deathly snakes. before her, is a snake afire. the amber of his eyes has lydia’s skin shuddering. whatever he is - she cannot tell if it is good or bad ( is she good or bad? ) the lines are blurred ; beacon hills in monochrome for she & her people are all in the grey. but the real girl, the prada-lover, the bitch - she is irritated that he has so easily won with but a few words. she sighs, rolls her eyes so hard they near fall from the sockets before she speaks, ❛ ———– if we’re so alike ; you can buy me a coffee. ❜ she turns, then. only to look over her shoulder at him. ❛ i like macchiatos. ❜
ALL PREVIOUSLY EXISTING DOUBT FADES UPON HEARING HER WORDS, a ghost of a grin ( toxic and twisted ---- distorting dark features. ) only allowing itself on his lips with his back to her ---- manifesting itself into the same smirk as before as he turns around. ❛ ---- do you have coffee with ALL GUYS that have glowing orange eyes or am i just special ? ❜ normally, he might laugh at the concept of buying a woman a drink, as a GOOD GUY might do, but she’s piqued his interest just enough that he’ll MAKE AN EXCEPTION. ❛ okay ---- a macchiato on me, then. ❜