heartearn:
𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐒, certainly, but it isn’t hard to pick up the shift in sutton’s demeanor when they make eye contact. he’s in two minds to inspect himself, double check that he hadn’t spilled on himself ( or worse —- left his fly undone? ) to earn the reaction. but the urge is easy to swallow with another swig, their attention refocusing as she speaks. “i mean, both could be true at the same time, but right now? yeah, the song is good. to me, at least. i’ll let you know if that changes after i finish these, though.”
whatever abel’s heightened senses are picking up on sutton is unaware of it, blindsided by the talk of music. an almost laugh sits on the edge of her lips in reaction to his last few words involving his copious amounts of consumption. there is only one pressing question on sutton’s mind, though, and it isn’t about his drink of choice. ‘ what is your criteria ? what makes a good song ? ’
