#spenthell

SMS > I could do with seeing your face right about now.

SMS > or like yesterday

SMS > …yesterday would be preferred

✉   ↠ I'm always in a good mood hearing back from you, Leon, considering I never do until you show up half dead at my front door.

✉   ↠ You're lucky I'm not busy...

Perhaps it's the first time she's genuinely jumped in front of him. The sideways grin she shoots the other watery and painfully fake and quickly dying away, looking back forward. Heart on her sleeve, big girl, taking up the space she wanted with no shame or embarrassment until, well...

"Just got overwhelmed-" It's a helpful supply to the situation, somewhat. Her chin comes to rest on her knee with a long exhale, a faint tremor to it near the end. Silences exposes the hurt like uncovering a fresh wound and she sniffles quietly, staring ahead until she tempts it and leans against the man slightly.

A growl answers him, throaty and inhuman, tapering off into an exasperated groan as he keeps assisting her out of her precarious position. When one needed food to actually make her abilities useful and didn't have quite enough to keep up?

"I will bite you in a way you won't like, Leon-" A gripe for some manner of humor, faintly slurred in thinly veiled exhaustion. Not quite able to reach the thick cords tangled around her after their fall, observing the other cut himself free before admitting she was unable to do the same in this moment.

"Tch-"

Mock exasperation is something she's good at, it's second nature, a light scowl in place as she looks down to messy blond hair splayed upon her shoulder. Maintaining it depends on circumstances; and it this case it melts away seeing as he's not actually looking at her.

Pen on paper continues to scratch away afterward, a background noise and hobby that keeps her (mostly) sane. The writing itself only last another few minutes before her head comes to rest against his as well, shuffling a little to get comfortable, propping her knee up to read through her work with a little yawn.

Of course a dual bullet firearm wasn't helpful around here, the one she kept on her partially sentimental, a weight in her little bag tucked under her little coat, all tied neatly for rapid travel that always seemed to hit when least expected; tailed by moans and screeches that kept following in her sleep.

Meryl sucked in a shaky breath, the handgun still pointed at where she shot even when she'd landed on her ass, the spray of black along the floor the only real hint she'd hit something. Not bad with a gun they'd all said.

Maybe later she'd double take Leon's words, blinking owlishly at him for now with the decision to ignore that before getting to her feet with his help. She promptly turned to be more at his back, scowling at the movements around them.

Happy New Year Smooches!

She feels small beside him, though she feels small beside most people. This is a different form of miniscule- Meryl doesn't like to pretend, not for long periods. But she stands next to him among other people they don't trust, staring down at the glass in her hand, dark amber liquid reflecting back at her, the rippling flicker reminding her of the slightly too revealing outfit on her person.

Pretty, complimentary of blue and black and white. Vaguely uncomfortable.

Her glass settles untouched back on the wooden table as she focuses on him, watching another raise to his lips.

A hand tugs at him, he certainly doesn't have to follow, can stand his ground easily and yet she can guide him out, the chill of the air nipping at them on some balcony somewhere they'd rather not be, chasing off the stuffy smothering heat from inside.

Slender fingers pluck the crystal glass from him, taking the last swallow of its contents without breaking his gaze. As it's set aside on stony railing, she tilts her chin up, daring, asking.

Happy New Year Smooches!

Given a week ago, perhaps there could have been a more obvious or open celebration. Another year alive, viewed from a precariously curious seperate opinion on her features. It is worth celebrating at points-

Perhaps it's also worth giving something often absent.

A staticky countdown on a radio, isolated sounds of celebration bearing on their ears. She can't quite pick up on a singular emotion on her company in momentary study. Still ruminating on dorky humor and bittersweet nostalgia, regarding endlessly moving fingers, always something to do.

As the seedy countdown tails off into cries of a happy new year somewhere that isn't riddled with strain, Fenix reaches forward idly to hook a finger under Leon's chin, ghosting lips over his, searching for a response that she seems to find.

Teeth catch his bottom lip in a graze of a nip, giving him plenty of time to change the direction she's offering before she swings her leg over his lap, nudging away his previous work.

Replacing a taste in his mouth with something uniquely hers, she doesn't quite lean back when she gives him a breadth of space, a faint rumble passing her throat.