now, i can't trust your lover's tongue except to tease and taunt.
If Hasibe is opium, Hyde is cocaine. Earlier, before night fell, she thought of Henry and smiled, because that is the other half of what has been consuming her, how amazing he is, and how well things seem to be going -- she knows he's got to find another job, but he's brilliant, someone will see it and recognize it. That was before dusk, and that was before midnight, when Hyde came again. She'd wondered if he would, with three nights of separation; maybe he'd moved onto other things (didn't strike her as likely), maybe something had happened. But she can never tell with him. He moves like a storm wind does, seemingly of his own accord, fanning the flame - and she'll stop the metaphor there.
And then, abruptly, he was there at the door, and she answered. He is the hit she can't seem to resist taking - it seems like she will always answer him when he comes calling.
And then, just as immediately, they were on the floor. (She doesn't remember who actually closed the door, either, because she definitely didn't have time to in the rush of- everything.) From this angle he might be able to see that there is a scorched little bit of cloth that used to be a blanket draped behind one of the chairs, like she hid it some other time earlier in the weekend, but in all likelihood they're both a little bit distracted. Irrelevant, mostly.
Her apartment has huge windows along the living room, and usually she leaves them covered by curtains, but sometimes on these achingly quiet, dark city nights she leaves the lights low and those curtains wide open so she can see the streetlights and the lack of stars -- like tonight, even though she wasn't wearing a whole lot. And when Hyde showed up she was very quickly wearing a lot less! So her neighbors probably saw some interesting things, if they happened to glance over, but that isn't what Hasibe is thinking about right now. Instead she is more interested in other things, such as how her floor is not actually that comfortable at all, even if she is on a rug - she twists, sighing, stretching, back arching with one of those painfully kitteny noises she makes sometimes.
"So...is there any way I could persuade you to carry me to the bed?"
Well, he's certainly strong enough.