he’d silently observe, trying not to miss each and every single action she’d perform. she was pretty - beautiful enough for him to imagine for how much she’d be bid for, whether or not she’d be worth the hunt for; how well she’d star in one of his movies. if her insides would look good splashed against the wall. ‘ peaceful, isn’t it ? ’ a question was made, referring to the open book; a false friendliness over his every being.
She licks thin lips, eyes adjusting to his features, momentarily, she scans them. In a great moment of decision, she ponders weather or not she is to speak. “I-I guess it is, yeah.” The voice is astoundingly small, almost a whisper, breathy enough to be in the same category, but still not quite.
