@claudiamcrshall
The thumb flicks against the gear, that metallic grating sharp in a quiet room, the only light to its name birthed from the same cigarette lighter held in Seraph's hand. Orange hue splashes against his face, a smile with teeth baring as he looks at Claudia. The color of the flame goes well with her redenned eyes, always the prettiest when she cries, and the loss of a mother has her glowing. What good can a whore make for a mother, though? The loss should feel like a gift, a gift he's given to her, but he can't blame her when she doesn't know who's responsible.
"You scared?" he asks with eyes glued to her. A burning wick has a certain scent to it, and it swirls around them as the candle is lit and placed between them on the floor he's made them both sit on. His bedroom floor. His dominion. His girl. "I know you’re not getting cold feet on me."