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@sprinkleofmuse
# SPRINKLEOFMUSE — a private, multi muse blog affiliated with the group OUTLASTEDHQ, written and loved by decay ( she + her / twenty seven / est ) .
saranya “sara” de vos — thirty four, she + her, heterosexual, survivor ( davika hoorne ) ╱ threads. pinterest. google doc.
amara baptiste — twenty seven, she + her, heterosexual, survivor ( samantha logan ) ╱ threads. pinterest. google doc.
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lillith really does appreciate the concern.especially because, thus far, people seemed to simply rely on her for guidance without considering that maybe she, too, is exhausted and run down. that she might also need a little bit of guidance. sure, she knew the ins and outs of how to care for people, but it's obvious that care did not really extend to herself. when amara nudges the cup closer again, she smiles gently before finishing off what was left.
“i believe it,” she teases. “but… thanks. i appreciate it, you know?” another soft smile forms before taking a deep breath. “how've you been, though? are you taking care of yourself?”
A quiet laugh slipped out of her as the question was turned back on her, and Amara shook her head once. ❝Oh, absolutely not. We are not doing that. This intervention was supposed to be about you.❞ There was no real protest behind it, though. If anything, the look she gave Lillith was almost amused by how quickly she had managed to redirect the attention away from herself. Her gaze dropped toward the empty cup for a moment before she gave a small shrug. ❝I’ve been okay. Mostly.❞ Which was vague enough to be suspicious, and she knew it. The corner of her mouth pulled upward faintly. ❝I’m eating. I’m sleeping. Occasionally. I think that technically qualifies as taking care of myself.❞
"Okay, okay" he held his hands up in some sort of defeat in the situations. "I'm sorry, I won't joke about the infected again, alright?" He offered Saranya a small smile before looking down at the tomato and holding it up for a moment. "Thank you for this." He smiled once more before taking a bite into the raw tomato. "Not too bad. I think the salt would help a little too, I see the appeal. It's not a big, greasy pizza but if I close my eyes I can somewhat imagine it."
A quiet laugh slipped from her at that, the last of her concern easing from her expression as she watched him actually take a bite. ❝I think you might be giving the tomato a little too much credit.❞ Her head tipped slightly, amusement settling back into her features. ❝Even with salt, I’m not sure I could convince myself it was pizza.❞ For a moment, her gaze dropped toward the garden before returning to him. ❝What kind would you get? If you could have one right now.❞ There was something almost wistful beneath the question, though her smile remained. ❝And please don’t say something terrible just to upset me.❞
who: open !
where: cedar grove clubhouse
sofi crouched by a cracked mirror, warming up the lead of a colored pencil with a lighter (the military hadn't found a use for the untouched pack of colored pencils she'd stolen as as they were being carried out of what must have been a child's bedroom. sofi couldn't bear to think of who they must have belonged to, what pictures the owner might have drawn with them if they'd had the time.) she felt the barest singe of heat as she carefully drew a simulacrum of eyeliner on her lash line. "there's no need to die ugly," she quipped, noticing the onlooker at the edge of the mirror. anything to feel human again. "you want?"
Her attention shifted from Sofi to the cracked mirror, then down to the colored pencil held carefully near her eye. For a second, she simply stared. There were probably several things she ought to say about putting heated art supplies that close to someone’s lash line. Several very responsible, medically informed things. Instead, the corner of her mouth twitched. ❝You know, I’m almost certain this isn’t what they meant when they put non-toxic on the box.❞ There was no real reprimand behind it. If anything, Saranya found herself watching with a quiet sort of fascination. She understood the impulse more than she wanted to admit. People had spent so long worrying about food, medicine, walls, weapons; everything required to keep a body alive, that sometimes it was easy to forget there were other things worth preserving too. She glanced at her own reflection in what remained of the mirror, taking in the tired eyes and the hair she had stopped bothering to tame properly weeks ago. ❝But you may have a point about dying ugly.❞ Her nose wrinkled slightly, as though reconsidering the possibility on principle. Then she looked back toward Sofi and held out her hand. ❝Alright. Give it here. Although if I lose an eye, I’m making you explain to everyone that it happened because I was trying to look pretty.❞ A beat passed before amusement warmed her expression. ❝Is eyeliner the full extent of your apocalypse beauty salon, or have you been hiding other contraband?❞
where: the community garden, cedar grove when: summer, two months post-outbreak, morning who: open to anyone in community 1 !
he had never been much of a gardener before the outbreak, he left that kind of stuff to his wife. they didn't have a whole lot of land and it wasn't the most fertile where they were, but she grew whatever she could with what space they did have. she had always been so proud of herself, growing a good amount of their own food. it had been a passion project she came up with shortly after the birth of their daughter.
but in this post-outbreak life, he tried to apply what she had taught him to this new community he was in. it was one of the ways to help get his mind off the fact that he had no idea what her or their daughter's fate was.
he's crouched over a sprouting corn plant, trying to make sure the space was appropriate for it so that it would flourish. if they're going to survive, making sure they have a good food supply is part of that. he can hear footsteps approaching the garden space, and he looks up, having to squint as the sun is beaming right into his eyes. “come to help?” he asks, though his tone is pretty flat.
She slowed at the edge of the garden, gaze moving from Alaric to the small corn plant he was hovering over with considerably more attention than she would have known to give it. The flatness of his question earned the faintest lift of her brows. ❝What a warm invitation. How could I possibly say no?❞ There was no real offense behind it, only a quiet thread of amusement as she stepped closer. She lowered the small container of water she had been carrying beside one of the rows before crouching a few feet away from him, careful not to put a knee anywhere that looked remotely important. Gardening was one of the many skills the end of the world had abruptly made much more valuable than anything she had spent years learning to do. ❝Fair warning, though, I know significantly more about keeping people alive than I do plants.❞ Her attention settled on the sprout again, studying it as though staring long enough might reveal what exactly Alaric had been doing. ❝So unless corn suddenly develops a pulse, you're going to have to tell me what you need me to do.❞ A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth before her gaze returned to him. He looked comfortable enough with the work that she doubted he was figuring it out entirely as he went. ❝You seem like you actually know what you're doing, though.❞ She reached for the container again, waiting rather than assuming where he wanted the water. ❝Were you always secretly a gardener, or is this one of those very inconvenient apocalypse skills you picked up along the way?❞
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today was better than the last. partly because she got out of helping tidy up the main room but because of her ingenious way she'd gotten lucky enough to talk someone into taking kitchen duties from her for a while. a few days, if she was lucky. while not quite against the idea of helping out, violet didn't think that her assets were being used adequately.
set a new legal system for this new world, she could respond to that call. but use her blunt nails to scrape off dried food from a plate was not it.
"i'm not the duty police," violet assured her and plopped down, peering at the liquid in front of her. her tastebuds hadn't adapted to this world yet. dull, bland, watered down. she was just thinking about subway moments prior— but she could only whine about so much at once. "i think the trick is to pick and choose what you can do. we're clearly not going anywhere anytime soon so you've got time. pace yourself."
The corner of her mouth pulled upward as Violet dropped into the seat across from her. ❝That sounds suspiciously like advice from someone who has gotten very good at picking the things she doesn’t want to do.❞ There wasn’t any judgment behind it. If anything, Amara sounded faintly impressed. Violet had an ability to decide where her energy was actually worth spending that Amara hadn’t quite figured out how to imitate yet. She lifted the mug, took one sip, and immediately made a face at whatever they were collectively pretending was coffee. ❝Jesus. You’d think the apocalypse could’ve at least had the decency to leave us decent caffeine.❞ Her fingers stayed curled around the warmth of the mug anyway, gaze dropping toward it for a moment. ❝I know you’re right.❞ The admission came reluctantly, though not because she disagreed. ❝I just keep thinking if I’m sitting here, somebody else is doing something I could’ve helped with. And then I start feeling guilty about that, which is ridiculous because there is literally always going to be something that needs doing.❞ Amara glanced back up at Violet, studying her for a beat before her expression softened into something more amused.
His eyebrow twitched upwards slightly at the mention of salt. It wasn't the strangest thing he'd heard of and as the world became chaos it definitely will not be the last either, infact he often worried about what they would have to eat as their supply slowly dropped. "Or did I drink?" He hummed slightly, a small smile creeping at the corner of his lip as he teased the other. "Yes, yes. I promise to look after myself. The last thing I'd want to do is pass out in front of infected somewhere, right?" He was joking but the thought was also kind of scary, really.
Her eyes narrowed at him slightly, though the smile at the corner of her mouth gave away that she wasn’t truly annoyed. ❝I’m choosing to believe you did, because I don’t think I’m prepared to start monitoring your water intake too.❞ The mention of passing out in front of infected earned him a look that was decidedly less amused. ❝That is exactly the kind of thing I would prefer you not joke about.❞ There was still a softness to her voice, concern settling beneath it as she folded her arms loosely across herself.
𝘊𝘓𝘖𝘚𝘌𝘋 𝘚𝘛𝘈𝘙𝘛𝘌𝘙 ; santiago garcia & saranya de vos.
𝘞𝘏𝘌𝘙𝘌: in a community one house. @sprinkleofmuse
There was a nervousness in Santiagos step that he had never been familiar with before. He could see her sitting over there, all on her lonesome. He figured that she could use some company, it was more dangerous to be alone with your thoughts these days than to be outside the walls. Even if he would never take his own advice on that one. But he had seen her around more than a few times in the community, a few short conversations here and there and yet, he wanted the chance to have another. Both his hands were gripped tightly on the mugs that he was holding, half a cup of coffee in each. It wasn't much to offer, but enough that it was better than having nothing. "It's still warm." A simple statement as he set it down on the table between them. His eyes darting from her to the mug he had placed then to empty chair before he slowly let himself relax in it. "I mean, if you even like coffee and shit."
She looked up at the sound of his voice, attention shifting from whatever useless little task she had been pretending was enough to keep her occupied. Her gaze dropped almost immediately to the mug Santiago set between them, and something in her expression softened. Coffee had become the sort of luxury people used to complain about getting wrong. ❝I like coffee.❞ She reached for the mug, curling both hands around it as though she could steal every bit of warmth before it disappeared. ❝I’m not sure I’m still allowed to have standards about it, but I like it.❞ The corner of her mouth pulled upward before she took a cautious sip, eyes flicking back toward him over the rim. ❝Thank you. This was sweet of you.❞ She settled a little more comfortably in her seat, letting the warmth of the mug rest against her palms. ❝I do miss a good hot chocolate, though. Especially with the whipped cream.❞ A wistful little smile crossed her face at the thought. ❝The ridiculous amount, too. None of that sensible little spoonful on top.❞ Her gaze returned to him, amusement warming it. ❝So if you ever happen to find whipped cream during one of your miraculous coffee expeditions, I expect you to remember this conversation.❞
Nathan let out an embarrassed laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "I've got both," he admitted with a grin. "Shirtless men... and fully clothed ones. I try to keep the collection balanced." The warmth in his cheeks only deepened at her compliment. He ducked his head for a moment, absently straightening a book that didn't really need straightening. "Thanks." His voice softened. "I just... it felt like something I could do." He glanced around the room, his smile lingering as his eyes settled on the mismatched shelves. "I worked in a library before all of this. Putting books back where they belong, helping people find something they'd enjoy..." He gave a small shrug. "It made this place feel a little familiar. I figured maybe it'd help someone else feel that way too." His expression dimmed slightly at the mention of the arguments downstairs. The raised voices had become harder to ignore lately, survivors and soldiers alike wearing themselves thin. "I wish people didn't have to fight each other," he said quietly. "I think everyone's just... tired. Scared." After a beat, he offered a small, hopeful smile. "Maybe that's a good sign, in a strange way. It means people still care enough to argue about what happens here. I'd be more worried if everyone stopped." Nathan looked back toward the shelves, visibly brightening as the conversation returned to books. "Oh, that depends." His grin came easier now. "Are you looking to learn something? Forget where you are for a while? Cry a little? Laugh a little?" He folded his arms loosely across his chest. "What's your favorite kind of story? I promise I can do better than Duke Whatever."
❝Fully clothed men too?❞ Her brows lifted, amusement immediately returning. ❝Wow. Diversity. I take back everything I said about this place.❞ The joke came easily, but she watched the way he straightened the book after her compliment. Her attention wandered around the room again. Knowing he'd worked in a library before made the whole thing click into place somehow. There was care in it that went beyond giving people something to do with their hands. Nathan had taken something familiar and rebuilt whatever version of it he could manage here. ❝I think it does. Help, I mean.❞ Her fingers skimmed absently along the spines within reach. ❝People need things that aren't just food, water, medicine, who's on watch …❞ A small shrug followed. ❝You spend long enough treating survival like it's the only thing that matters and eventually you forget what you're surviving for.❞ The words came out more thoughtful than she'd intended, enough that Amara's mouth pressed briefly together before she glanced back at him. His optimism about the arguments earned him a quiet huff of laughter. ❝That's an incredibly generous interpretation of people yelling at each other downstairs.❞ She tilted her head, considering it. ❝But maybe you're right. I'm going to remember you said that the next time somebody starts an argument over canned peaches and see if it makes me feel any better.❞ At his questions, she looked toward the shelves with exaggerated seriousness. ❝Definitely not cry. I think reality's covering that genre pretty thoroughly right now.❞ Her nose wrinkled. ❝And nothing educational. If you hand me a textbook, I'm leaving.❞ She pushed away from the shelf and wandered a little farther into the room, scanning the collection as she went. ❝Something that makes it very easy to forget where I am sounds good. Mystery, adventure… something where all the problems are somebody else's for a few hours.❞ A beat passed before she glanced back over her shoulder at him. ❝What about you? You get one book to save from your old library before the world ends. What are you grabbing? And you can't cheat and say some practical survival guide.❞
Gabe grabbed the tomato from her hand without questioning anything, if he had learned anything from his three years of dating Emine it was that sometimes it is better to just go along with it without a word. "Thank you." He nodded before looking at the tomato and back up at her. "Have you been eating these raw?" He knew there was no harm in it but the thought still felt a little odd to him. "I promise I have kepy myself hydrated, you don't need to worry about that part."
A small smile pulled at her mouth as she glanced down at the tomato in his hand, entirely unbothered by the question. ❝Yes.❞ The answer came simply, like there was nothing remotely strange about it. ❝Sometimes I put salt on them, if we have any, if that makes you feel better.❞ Her gaze lifted back to him, amusement warming her expression. ❝And I’m glad you’ve managed water. That’s a very impressive first step.❞ There was just enough teasing in her voice to soften it. ❝You have to make sure you take care of yourself in this new world, you know.❞
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gaze narrows on saranya as bash took an internal moment to debate the fact. trust was a finicky thing. something lost. something that can be taken, broken, shattered. once upon a time, all it was likely to cause as a bit of heartache and betrayal. nowadays, the loaded quality came with the risk of death. trusting the wrong person. the wrong group. well, it could kill you. that much, bash was certain of. still, he eases slightly at the confession. as if admitted to starvation was some form of vulnerability.
lips are pressed together as sara speaks, fumbling with the paper quietly between his fingertips as he weighs her words. " odd of you to care about a stranger's survival , " sebastian accused, certain that most wouldn't feel the same sentiment. tearing off the corner of the sandwich, he pops the bite into his mouth as a smirk tempts to curve the corners of his lips upwards. " peace offering ? " bash echoed, gaze flickering out the half shattered window. shoulders raise slightly in a nonchalant shrug before falling back down. " no promises , " he huffed out a sound that was a mix of a scoff and a laugh.
The accusation earned a softer smile than it probably deserved. ❝Maybe.❞ She tipped her head slightly, watching him finally take a bite as some of the tension eased from her shoulders. That, at least, felt like a small victory. ❝I just don’t think someone has to stop being a stranger before I’m allowed to care whether they live or die.❞ There were already enough reasons in the world to look away from people now. Sara didn’t particularly want to become another one of them. Her gaze followed his briefly toward the broken window before returning to him, the hint of amusement still lingering when he refused to make any promises. ❝I wasn’t asking for one.❞ She shifted her weight back slightly, giving him the space he seemed determined to keep between himself and everyone else. ❝Just thought a sandwich might make me slightly less suspicious than I was the last time.❞ A beat passed before her smile warmed again. ❝And if it doesn’t, I suppose I’ll have to come up with a better peace offering next time.❞
today was better than the last. partly because she got out of helping tidy up the main room but because of her ingenious way she'd gotten lucky enough to talk someone into taking kitchen duties from her for a while. a few days, if she was lucky. while not quite against the idea of helping out, violet didn't think that her assets were being used adequately.
set a new legal system for this new world, she could respond to that call. but use her blunt nails to scrape off dried food from a plate was not it.
"i'm not the duty police," violet assured her and plopped down, peering at the liquid in front of her. her tastebuds hadn't adapted to this world yet. dull, bland, watered down. she was just thinking about subway moments prior— but she could only whine about so much at once. "i think the trick is to pick and choose what you can do. we're clearly not going anywhere anytime soon so you've got time. pace yourself."
The corner of her mouth pulled upward as Violet dropped into the seat across from her. ❝That sounds suspiciously like advice from someone who has gotten very good at picking the things she doesn’t want to do.❞ There wasn’t any judgment behind it. If anything, Amara sounded faintly impressed. Violet had an ability to decide where her energy was actually worth spending that Amara hadn’t quite figured out how to imitate yet. She lifted the mug, took one sip, and immediately made a face at whatever they were collectively pretending was coffee. ❝Jesus. You’d think the apocalypse could’ve at least had the decency to leave us decent caffeine.❞ Her fingers stayed curled around the warmth of the mug anyway, gaze dropping toward it for a moment. ❝I know you’re right.❞ The admission came reluctantly, though not because she disagreed. ❝I just keep thinking if I’m sitting here, somebody else is doing something I could’ve helped with. And then I start feeling guilty about that, which is ridiculous because there is literally always going to be something that needs doing.❞ Amara glanced back up at Violet, studying her for a beat before her expression softened into something more amused.
𝚆𝙷𝙸𝙻𝙴 𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝙴 𝚆𝙴𝚁𝙴 many downsides to existing as part of a community, there were undeniably perks, too ... ones which she hadn't had on her own before joining the compound. one of those small pleasures ? clean clothing. she'd arrived with dirt in every pore and likely reeking, but now could pass for somewhat clean. never again would she complain about having chores when it meant small luxuries were gained. maggie enters the break room, flexing sore hands, and pulls up a chair before a pile of clothing. “ 𝚆𝙾𝚆 … ” 𝚂𝙷𝙴 𝙽𝙾𝙳𝚂, taking in the neon fabric currently assaulting her eyes. " if we ever need to send someone out to be a decoy, i think we've found their outfit. “ it was a horrible thought, sacrificing one of their own, but hey — whatever it took to survive. “ kind of. i volunteered for folding duty, “ she states in response to amara's inquiry. “ and, if i'm honest, i want to check out the clean clothing options. there's this flannel shirt i had from before, and i need it back. i saw that lady, the one who looks and sounds kinda' like jennifer coolidge ? ” another downside of community living : existing alongside eccentric folk. ” i don't know what her name is, and i don't want to know — " it's easier that way, not getting attached, " — anyway, doesn't matter. she was wearing my shirt last week, and i want it back. " fingers work quickly, plucking decent-enough t-shirts from the pile and beginning to fold. " not saying we should sacrifice her, but it would be funny to see her walking around in that vegas shirt, " mischevious suggestion, a small smile crossing her lips as she glances up at amara.
The laugh escaped before she could stop it, quick and sharp as Amara lowered the neon shirt into her lap. ❝Okay, first of all, I know exactly who you mean.❞ Which probably said more about the state of Saint Marlowe than either of them needed to unpack. There were enough personalities crammed into the hospital that Amara had started mentally cataloguing people by increasingly ridiculous descriptions rather than names. Jennifer Coolidge was, unfortunately, an effective one. Her attention dropped back to the pile, hands moving through the clothes with considerably less urgency now that there was someone else helping. ❝And second, if that woman ends up wearing this thing, I had absolutely nothing to do with it.❞ A beat. Amara folded the Vegas shirt neatly anyway, setting it suspiciously close to the side of the table. ❝But I’m also not gonna stop you.❞ She reached for another shirt, gave it a once-over, then tossed it toward the appropriate stack. ❝What does your flannel look like?❞ There was something amused in her expression when she glanced back over. ❝Because if you’re planning some kind of highly coordinated clothing heist, I need details. I refuse to become an accessory without knowing what I’m risking my reputation for.❞ Not that her reputation around here was worth much these days. Amara leaned forward, digging beneath a pair of jeans and an oversized sweatshirt before adding, ❝Although if she actually took it from your stuff, that’s different. I’ll help you get it back.❞ Her mouth twitched. ❝Preferably without sacrificing anyone. Seems like paperwork.❞
Caught in the interim of day and night, you could miss the entrance of one, Amara Baptiste. Her perpetual motion signals the eventual loss of momentum. Eased into wakefulness. A sideways bow rather than a head-on dart, rounded gently by the finish line at the foot of his personal space. She would linger at a doorway until knocked elsewhere. What one would call the morse code of her approach. It’ll be hard to forget, now. He lazily eyes the plates in hand. ‘ Evidently. ’ A slight tilt to his head. Left. Breaching through the surface tension of a naked eye’s perception. The rims of the plates glint faintly. ‘ You’re right on time, ’ he acquiesces, standing to slide his palm under his own dinner. Nick slowly blinks his gaze back up to hers. ‘ Have you another twenty questions in store for me? ’
A brow lifted at that, amusement pulling faintly at the corner of her mouth as she surrendered the plate into his hand. ❝Twenty? Please. I’ve learned to pace myself.❞ There was something almost offended in the way she said it, though the smile ruined any chance of taking her seriously. She shifted her own dinner against her palm, making no immediate move to leave now that the delivery had been successfully completed. ❝I was thinking five, maybe six.❞ A beat. ❝Starting with why you always look like someone’s interrupted you in the middle of plotting a murder whenever I come find you.❞ Her gaze narrowed playfully. ❝Should I be concerned, or is that just your face?❞
lillith is sat at the nurses' station, manning it just as she had before this whole thing happened. she doesn't even notice amara at first, not until she places the cup of water down and begins to speak. it startles her slightly, and she looks up at the other. there are dark circles rimming her eyes, making it quite obvious that it has been some time since she last slept.
she looks between the cup of water and amara, sighing before taking it and drinking some.
“i…” she thinks of lying for a second, but she knows the other would see right through her. “i don't know,” she finally resigns to the truth. “i'm fine, though, okay? someone's gotta keep this place running after all.”
Her expression softened almost immediately, though the concern underneath it didn’t disappear. If anything, Lillith admitting she couldn’t remember only made Amara’s brows pull together a little tighter. ❝Yeah, well, you can’t keep this place running if you run yourself into the ground.❞ There was no bite to it, just the quiet certainty of someone who knew the argument because she had used it against herself plenty of times. Amara reached across the station, nudging the cup a little closer once Lillith lowered it again. ❝And before you try telling me you’re fine again, you look like you haven’t slept since civilization collapsed.❞ The corner of her mouth twitched, an attempt at softening the accusation. ❝So. Five minutes. Sit here, drink that.❞ A beat passed before she tilted her head. ❝Or do I need to start being annoying about this? Because I can be very annoying.❞
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"Uh.." Gabe trailed off, his looking upwards as he thought over the question she'd asked. When did he last eat? There were some things that hadn't changed when the world seemingly stopped and that was his ability to forget to eat as he kept himself busy through the day, a world filled with infected or not. "Maybe last night? God, I have no idea this place keeps me on the go. Does it help if I don't really feel hungry though?"
A soft, disbelieving sound left her as she shook her head, though the concern in her expression was far more obvious than any real amusement. ❝No, actually. I think that makes it worse.❞ She held the tomato out toward him, brows lifting in quiet insistence. ❝You know forgetting to eat because you’re busy is still forgetting to eat, right?❞ There was no lecture in her tone, only the sort of patient familiarity that came from having had some version of this conversation with exhausted first responders long before any of this happened. ❝Take it. Before I start asking what else you’ve conveniently forgotten today.❞
kindness was often laced with poison. this was a train of thought that came long before the infected spread, but the end of the world certainly amplified the philosophy. everything came with a cost. choices were a mixed concoction of risk and reward. today's reward being presented in form of a sandwich, which weighed heavy on the scale of necessity. the con? well, for now, just sebastian's ego. " you're aware i'm not a stray dog, right ? " he retorted, voice even and pointed.
gaze fixed on the offer and he took a moment to let silence drip between the two. measure what other strings were tied together with the offer. surely, there was more than just the blow to his confidence on admitting who needed the food more. " everyone's hungry. you don't need to lie , " finally, bash gave in and accepted the wrapped prepared food. strange, what he decided to give up in replacement of not sacrificing every ounce of freedom he had. " y'know, some people would kill for this nowadays. you should be careful, venturing around out here just to give something you don't owe , "
the paper was being peeled back as he spoke, attempting to ignore the desperation his body felt to inhale the whole thing right here and right now. " i'm not trading anything , " bash clarified, brows rose as honey hues linked back to the other.
A small crease appeared between her brows at that, though there was more amusement than offense behind it. ❝I’m aware you’re not a stray dog.❞ Her gaze dropped briefly to the sandwich now in his hands before returning to his face. ❝Stray dogs are usually a little more trusting.❞ It was teasing, barely, and softened almost immediately by the faint smile that followed. He was right about one thing, though. Everyone was hungry. Including her. Sara exhaled quietly through her nose, conceding the point without actually giving him the satisfaction of saying so. ❝Fine. Maybe I was a little hungry.❞ A beat. ❝But I still wanted you to have it. Both things can be true. I'm not sure how much food you've been finding out here.❞ At his warning, her eyes flicked instinctively toward the windows, attention catching on the quiet street beyond them before settling back on him. ❝I am being careful.❞ As careful as someone could be while sneaking sandwiches beyond the safety of a gated community, anyway. ❝And I know I don’t owe you anything.❞ Her expression softened slightly when he clarified there wouldn’t be a trade. ❝I’m not asking you for a trade, just for you to stay alive.❞ Sara gave a small shrug. ❝It's just a sandwich. Maybe call it a peace offering or something.❞
