Send me a ship for a smol drabble!
“Did you intend to kill me when you first met me?”
Hawke is half dressed already. Kathe can’t help the way her sights linger on ribs that are just too prominent for her liking. Hawke doesn’t falter, choosing to tie her military boots tightly around her legs before answering.
“Of course. I have a plan to kill everyone I meet just in case it’s necessary.”
It is unlike Hawke’s lips to be so unsatisfying. It is unlike Kathe to press.
“Okay, but at what point did you decide it wasn’t necessary?”
The smirk is the very same that made Kathe’s knees go weak that night, that made her so willingly grasp at sand that she knew would flee between her fingers. It strikes fear in her now, something akin to terror, and yet it still forces her compliance as Hawke offers Kathe her full attention, crawling up the bed and hovering over Kathe. She is always on her back so quickly.
Lips hover above hers and for a brief moment she wants to believe how gentle it is.
“It never is unnecessary.”