You can't fight me, you're miniature.
Sorry this took like 12 years. I’m not finding the inspo for these I wanted so I’m slowly working on them as they come to me.
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“You can’t fight me, you’re miniature,” Noire smirked down at Blanche. It was only an inch. Heels really made the difference. It didn’t matter though. Blanche was shitfaced. Tears welled up in their eyes and Candela pulled the drink out of their hand before they launched themselves at Noire.
“You jerk!” They sobbed, hugging them tightly. Blanche’s words were slurring, “just come on and fight me already. That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”
“I actually just came for a drink but I think I’m going to take you home. Did you bring a bag?” they asked with a sigh. Blanche shook their head. Candela looked between them, and glared at Noire. The message was clear: hurt Blanche and die.
That didn’t stop Noire from helping Blanche navigate the bar or keep them from hitting their head on the door jamb as they got into Noire’s car. Tucking Blanche into bed felt far too familiar for Noire’s comfort. They set water on the bedside table and pills.
When Blanche awoke to a frozen glass of water there was no doubt in their mind who brought them home. Candela, Annie and Spark all knew better than to leave the glass that close. Noire wouldn’t have known. Something in Blanche’s chest ached.
