(no subject)

[majorinyri]

If you were to go outside, just right outside the door, you'd be greated with the smell of smoke, and the view of Inyri's slim figure huddled in a light jacket as Wyn runs circles around. That smoke smell comes from the cigarette in her fingers as she leans against the wall of the bar.

Just standing there. Nothing simmering at all. Of course not.