she’s still a little mused from sleep, hair in a nest that she calls a bun atop of her head and a sweater hanging off of her shoulder. cecelia definitely doesn’t look at all put together right now, though luckily that’s not what she’s going for. sipping on your third coffee of the day when you’d only been up since noon definitely didn’t scream put together anyway. another thing that most definitely did not scream put together was doing a full 180 in your seat to glare openly at someone sat behind you because they’d been talking. however, cece had a short attention span and their voice was getting on her nerves. ‘ hey – have you ever… i don’t know, thought about shutting the fuck up ? ’
❛ if i shut the fuck up, will you evaporate? i don't know, just a thought. it's public area, freedom of speech — at least for now until cheeto dust fucks it all up and mother russia goes red dawn on all of our asses. ❜ ah, marshall, a mess in male form. sitting, arms crossed with a tight black shirt on — clinging to every lean muscle on his upper torso. ❛ can you just buzz off yourself? it's rude to cuss at strangers. ❜ he flashed her a toothless grin, tilting his head in an angle.











