"Designing a tattoo," Becky says absently, concentrating on her sketch. It's complicated and messy, but eventually, something awesome (to her, at least) will come out of it. "Or, well, theoretically."
She holds up her right hand, still scribbling away with her left. There are tattoos covering the forearm, from her fingertips to her elbow. "I did all these myself."
The narration will assume, for the moment, that this takes place after Des comes back from his night out with Martha, as he insisted on seeing Becky.
He hasn't seen her since she came back to the hotel, so when he enters the common room, he bounds over to her with all the excitable energy of a puppy... Or a slightly inebriated ex-immortal.
"Long time, no see, Becks," he beams, plopping down beside her without having been invited, because, well, since when does he need to be invited to do things?
He fixes his eyes on the top of her head, mostly out of politeness but also because his head's just a little swimmy and he can't be bothered to move it much. "If I said I wasn't, would you believe me?"
Comments 42
He's not very social ever. Except when he's not being Gabriel, and he doesn't feel like being Gabriel right now.
"What are you drawing?"
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It's not really a question. But it's followed with a nod of approval.
"Most kids just scroll through the already drawn shit and pick themselves out something fun and generic."
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She holds up her right hand, still scribbling away with her left. There are tattoos covering the forearm, from her fingertips to her elbow. "I did all these myself."
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He hasn't seen her since she came back to the hotel, so when he enters the common room, he bounds over to her with all the excitable energy of a puppy... Or a slightly inebriated ex-immortal.
"Long time, no see, Becks," he beams, plopping down beside her without having been invited, because, well, since when does he need to be invited to do things?
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"You're drunk, aren't you?"
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