@wandererfms // lost boys ink !
days ( and sometimes weeks ) after christmas always meant an influx of clients in the shop, leaving femi working even longer hours than normal and practically living in her booth. “fucking finally,” she breathes, quick to hop up and switch the sign on the door from opened to closed. lunch hour, her saving grace, had finally arrived. practically bouncing over to daxton's booth, arms rest over the partition, head tilting. “so, what's for lunch ? i'm thinking tacos, but i'm not picky, so, i'll let you choose this time."










