#roswellwinter

olivia was waiting to get her nails done, she was studying one of the booklets that was full of different designs. "i think i’m going to go for that pretty blue set with the butterflies” she points to the design, showing it to winter. “what about you? what are you feeling?” olivia hadn’t had her nails done in ages and so today she was going to go as fancy as possible. 

          it’s  late  in  the  evening  and  mac  crawls  his  way  out  of  the  cage  as  he  always  does  —  exhausted,  bruised,  in  pain,  filled  with  adrenaline.  he  can  feel  thick  liquid  tickling  down  his  eyebrows  and  his  ribs  burning  but  all  of  that  dissipates  at  the  sight  of  the  very  familiar  face  he’d  grown  closer  to  in  the  past  few  months.  he  has  a  discreet  limp  to  his  walk  as  he  approaches  winter,  because  he  still  got  a  pretty  bad  beating  even  if  the  victory  had  been  his  in  the  end,  but  his  smile  couldn’t  be  warmer.  “hey,  princess.”  mac  greets  gleefully.  “i’m  startin’  to  think  i  really  can’t  win  a  fight  without  you  around  anymore.  you  better  not  go  anywhere  now.”