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The night was no longer young as the three left the posh nightclub. Kotomi’s short, silk sanguine dress was rumpled and her dark hair was falling in strands into her face, flushed from drink and dance. Mello, ever the stoic, had his hand on the small of her back, leading her deftly, while Matt with his drunken smile brought up the rear. They were a formidable trio, and other patrons of the club instinctively parted to let them through, though everyone’s eyes lingered as they passed. The red Camero was on the curb, and Matt unlocked it, letting Mello into the passenger seat, Kotomi curling up in the back.
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Just a bit of rambling. My brain can't keep focused today. I wish I had an ounce of artistic talent so I could draw my OC Kotomi, but I don't.
