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she was weak, she was slow and the blisters were barbaric. "my tolerance is a joke now," katherine remarked pouring herself a drink. "it's glorious. " might have been the only good part of the whole 'human' thing. given her lack of compulsion, being able to get wasted far easier was a gift.
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“ You have–– You have a little... On your lip. ” Betty’s eyes are GLOSSY with the little-too-tipsy sheen that comes with two beers and a sip of a discount-shop wine cooler as she leans in. She can’t quite be certain but from the way Archie’s breath smells FRUITY and EARTHY as her lips glide over the foam dabbed on top of his, she can imagine how hers might be the same. And maybe she’s just too drunk, or maybe the grip his fingers have on her waist, on the thigh thrown over his lap, have her intoxicated beyond just barley and wine and SUGAR, but it tastes pretty damn good –– he tastes pretty DAMN good. “ Goddit, ” she whispers, running her finger over the now-clear skin and up the side of his face, to the indent between his brows. In this little abandoned -– or maybe it’s just late and dark –– park that they’re sat at, you can hear a pin drop, or the rat-a-tat drum line of Betty’s happy heart. “ I LOVE this little... I don’t even know what to call it –– a scar? –– between your little caterpillar eyebrows. I love it. I love you. ”
–– @exceptorange ur welcome
