#gcs.

❛ Y'KNOW, SOME PEOPLE WOULD SAY IT'S LUCKY. ❜ Sabine swirled the ice in her glass, having been perfectly content people-watching from her seat at the bar until they walked in. Skippy's weathered walls had seen plenty over the years, though perhaps none quite as unseasonable as this. Most of the birds had migrated south for the season, yet somehow, it seemed that they had crossed paths with the only one stubborn enough to stay behind.

She tilted her head, eyeing the bright white splotch on their shoulder for a moment. ❛ Not me. I think it’s fucking disgusting. ❜ The corner of her lips quirked up into a smirk. ❛ But, some people. ❜

❛ DOOR'S OPEN, ❜ sabine called over her shoulder, hearing footsteps on the porch. a drip echoed from the top of the staircase, where she was crouched over a freshly emptied bucket. there was a bottle of wine already perched by the door, a delicate red ribbon wrapped around a note that simply read 'thanks t'.

she had known tiago for as long as she could remember, growing up on the beach in the shadow of the lighthouse he would one day become the keeper of. he had the misfortune of first tending to her grandmother’s home, and then to her own; the latter of which was in much need of a renovation. initially built as a summer cottage, the home had stood on the far end of the vineyard for nearly eighty years. where the main house underwent frequent reconstruction to maintain its charm for the events hosted there, sabine preferred to maintain the cottage’s rustic charm. the salt air-worn paneling had received a fresh coat of paint at the beginning of april, but that was the extent of its refreshments. 

she knew what he would say upon seeing the most recent leak, but she was hardly capable of fixing it herself. ❛ it's the roof again. new spot this time, though. ❜ she didn't know whether he'd be heartened by the change or even less impressed.