#cursedthcrns.

dara holds an iced sprite in hand as her gaze fixates on the bonfire, the warmth off the fire grazes her skin, she almost catches herself getting lost into it when she's pulled back when an all too familiar hits her senses. she doesn't have to look at him to recognize who's approached her. " lost boys trouble, already at a memorial bonfire? " she piques the question as if she expects this exchange to be professional to which, she would and would have a strong preference for it being so. " i would hope not, that would certainly not be a good look to your club's image. "