THE MORNING AFTER — @irnmade . . .
ALEKSANDRA DOESN'T LOOK UP FROM THE MUG CLASPED COMFORTABLY BETWEEN HER PALMS when she hears the approach of footsteps, nor when they halt in the threshold of the kitchen's door. the reflection gazing back at her in the inky black of her tea is still mussed from . . . previous activities, and despite the aching need for perfection in all that she does she makes the conscious effort to leave it as is. too pristine and one might find her suspicious.
" I DON'T THINK I CAUGHT YOUR NAME? "
head darts up, shoulders seize, eyes widen: a feigned display of startled guilt at being caught treating his place as though it were her own, before a hand raises to tuck unruly hair behind her ear. " robin. " another lie, as was the norm for the woman who's life was built on them. she should feel offended that he couldn't recall her name — ESPECIALLY CONSIDERING THE NIGHT THEY'D SPENT TOGETHER — but it elicits only a teasing roll of her eyes. " hope you don't mind. " muttered sheepishly she holds the still steaming mug up, smile quirking at the corner if her lips.
