Location: The Domus Aurea Time: 12:55 Status: closed for @s-terlingsilva
The familiar flash of white-blonde hair sparks more comfort in Beaux’s heart than she’s felt all day. These things are too stressful, and she can feel it in her bones that the nightmares she calls her friends are conspiring about something. There are the tell-tail signs everywhere, and Beaux is adept at reading them after all this time. Andrew’s sharp smiles, the glances exchanged between Soren and Jack, the general aura of competition. Her eyes have been narrowing all day, the atmosphere of the room leaving her on edge and wrung out.
She deserves a moment of respite. They both do. Beaux knows from experience that Silva would rather be throwing punches than making small-talk with the people she hates. She picks her way through the crowd once she see’s Silva alone, inhabiting a corner with a bravado that she’s cultivated for years. Beaux wants to curl close and let herself feel at home, let herself feel at ease. She lets herself wrap a hand around Silva’s wrist, the softest squeeze of greeting as she leans close enough to whisper: “You’re all up to something, aren’t you?