(no subject)
She's used to it. Either he stays with her or she stays with him but, more often than not, she falls asleep with one leg twined through Babe's, her face turned against his shoulder. It took some adjustment, after years on her own in a wide, bed, but she's got it now. She'd ever admit to liking it.
She wakes up slowly to the smell of Babe's skin and Nelson hissing at the end of the bed. She lifts one bare foot to swat him away and stares at it. She looks a it for a really long time and then she sits up.
It takes a lot of willpower not to swear out loud. Not to wake Babe.
Bloody fucking island.
Her clothes aren't going to fit, is the first problem, but Babe's might, at a push.
God, she needs a bloody cigarette.
She pushes her hand back through hair that's not much shorter and clears her throat, surprised by the deep rumble in her chest.
No, what she needs first is a mirror.
She wakes up slowly to the smell of Babe's skin and Nelson hissing at the end of the bed. She lifts one bare foot to swat him away and stares at it. She looks a it for a really long time and then she sits up.
It takes a lot of willpower not to swear out loud. Not to wake Babe.
Bloody fucking island.
Her clothes aren't going to fit, is the first problem, but Babe's might, at a push.
God, she needs a bloody cigarette.
She pushes her hand back through hair that's not much shorter and clears her throat, surprised by the deep rumble in her chest.
No, what she needs first is a mirror.