#pendingtag.

it should come as no surprise;  not when one is always on alert,  focsued on taking in each detail,  almost submersing oneself into the picture itself. 　　[ why are you so afraid to be seen — known, what fears of being alive haunt you night and day ? ] 　　but that doesn't make her psychic — able to predict the future or what's to come,  she - like everybody else could merely live in the moment and decide right then and there which action to take,  which path they'll be forced down.  there's no telling to how the night is supposed to go,  how long it should stretch on for — but once the pair have left the quaint bar,  heels click down pavement as they pass by an alleyway;  there's too much running through her system,  guard let down with the comfort of present company,  there's no containing the noise that spills from her mouth,  feet stumbling as she feels her back hit the wall and lips on hers.  not needing to think twice before hands are snaked round the woman's waist,  palms flat against her back as she leans further in,  mouth hungry for more as she holds back the moan strangled at the bottom of her throat.

        she’s lounging back across the man’s couch. fingertips wrap against glass containing alcohol tipping back. she’s nestled herself within blankets found variously strung across the house. wynter went as far to rifle through draws pulling out sweatpants and tank. clothing once clung against nimble frame lays across the floor. feet tucked beneath, chopsticks shuffle through tiny chinese take out box as wynter awaits his arrival. the young brunette easily scaled the length of marlowe’s how to hop through a window. when she finally hears movement, unexpected company head cants slight and she calls out. 

                                                         ❝                         hey  ;  where’s y’soy sauce! ❞