@wolfeign sent: ❛ There's a fine line between protecting someone and smothering them. ❛
❛ I don't believe in fine lines. You live to smother me. ❛ She muses, dark satin pout drawn with no effort to limit the dramatics of her face. It's some kind of lie uttered by a woman too petulant to mind that what she was saying sounded, perhaps, a little silly. She jams her narrow cocktail straw into her nearly-dwindled drink, rattling the ice melting in her glass with some agitation.
Obsidian gaze flickers down the bar —toward the older man that Logan had only just scared off after he'd tried, a little too drunk —a little too aggressive, to come onto Donna. That same man —wearing his designer sunglasses indoors, artificial smile —is now chatting up another, younger woman. In a more sober form, she might have been gracious toward her companion for him stepping in. But she is far from sober. Madonna shifts, bumping her small shoulder against Logan's side and flashing him an aggrieved look.
❛ But whatever. Are you gonna buy me a new drink? ❛
