May 27, 2020
prompt: send “you okay?” to find my muse sitting alone on a roof at night. @devoncooper
“I’m great, baby,” she replied without hesitation, expression collapsing into a mask she wore well--sultry and playful and insolent, the smile of someone who knew exactly who she was and exactly what she wanted. Not untrue descriptors, but entirely too reductive to paint the full picture of Victoria Ryan. Not that she’d been in the midst of some great, emotionally-cathartic revelation anyway, but with Devon here she’d put her existential epiphanies on the back-burner. She didn’t need another deep thinker picking her brain. “I hope you come bearing gifts.”