@selcouthturtlerp
“What time is it?” The original plan was that they’d wrap up the session at 7, go on their separate ways and meet up again tomorrow to work on the last verse of the song. Melody grimaced as she brushed her finger against her phone screen to unlock it. Fuck. Almost 10pm. “Shit, I’m sorry, Damien, I thought I set an alarm. Weren’t you trying to go to a party tonight? We can get you there if you wanna arrive late like the suave rebel you are.” Flipping her notebook shut, she rose, stretching out limbs she hadn’t even realized had gone numb from sitting cross-legged for so long. “Blame it on me for fighting you so long about the chord change for the bridge. And because I know you want to hear it I’ll say it again.” She plucks at an imaginary skirt in place of her jeans, dips into a low curtsy, voice playful. “You were right. Your idea was brilliant. You were right and I was wrong.”