@jagtenn asked:
03. cups the others face with both hands.
"Ah, cold -"
Emre chased her hands with his own, folding them over the calloused fingers. Up close like this, she smelled sweet, like beeswax and the remnants of an expensive perfume. He couldn't help but to lean into the touch, shoulder dipping against hers in the warm nest of blankets and pillows. Freja could take it - he had witnessed her haul men double his weight out of the trickiest situations with nothing more than a drag strap and a prayer.
It had been late that he returned from his own mission, something that went belly-up as soon as they had landed. Despite their woes and their late return, Emre had returned relatively unscathed, collapsing into his quarters as the sun slogged through the early dawn.
A few hours had passed, sunlight fighting a losing war against his blackout shades, when she had appeared in his room. He didn't stir, of course, to her quiet calls, and drastic times call for drastic measures.
Emre's eyes slid open blearily, taking a moment to focus in on the blob of red hair and freckles that met him there.
"Need t'get you a pair of gloves. Brr-" His voice was thick with sleep as he allowed his eyes to falter shut again, sleep a very alluring outcome still.