#pradaisms

"did i tell you. i got a boyfriend."

     He whistles loudly as he pulls up in his red 2014 Porsche 911. He found it in the garage. He's not technically supposed to be driving. Get in loser. We're going shopping.

"There is a rumour that you are cooking a bun in that little oven of yours, is that true?"

brabe u know i do

"So perhaps we should talk. Or, better yet, I should apologise." And it definitely has nothing to do with his black eye.

          ❝ Darlin' --- ❞   Despite the natural gruffness of his voice, there's a sickening sweetness to his tone. And he pokes his head into the bathroom where he assumes Britta is doing her hair or something. Fingers are fiddling with a tie around his neck; he promised he'd come with her to some dinner thing for work, but he can't for the life of him pick a tie, or a suit. Hopeless.                                       ❝ Do I look alright? ❞

     'Well, now I'm out of prison and slowly getting my appearance back to a decent state. You, of course, look as beautiful as ever. But I'm not entirely sure where we stand now, all things considered.'