|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu Apr 12, 2012 9:17 pm
The night air had become warmer in the past few weeks. She could feel spring in the air and deep in her bones. Not that she particularly minded any season over another, but something about the transition from the stiffening chill of winter into the liberating warmth of spring and summer felt revitalizing. Like waking from a long slumber to finally stretch one's wings again. Kallichore leaped from roof to roof, taking in the sights and sounds of the city with the ease only a senshi could. She reveled in her power in ways she feared others would not understand. Sometimes she felt painfully alone.
Then she thought of the Jovians.
She thought of them fondly, like her family away from family. Sure they had their disagreements (on more than one occasion) but what family didn't? As her hair and the many belts on her uniform flipped and snapped in the wind, she could not help but think of where she might have been had she not had the grounding voices of others to calm her down. Would she be dead? ...or worse?
Stopping to perch on a building she recognized as being familiar, a strange and strangled noise reached her ears. Eyes narrowed to focus her hearing, trying to pinpoint its location. Her first and immediate instinct was that someone was injured and in trouble. But this looked like... Chris' apartment? Isn't this where they held their first meeting before? It had to be. She recognized the surrounding structures. Blinking the confusion away, Kallichore swooped down silently to kneel like a gargoyle in front of an open window where she was sure the sound was emanating. It sounded like...
...like crying.
She swallowed, thick and dry. When did her heart start to race? "....Chris?"
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 13, 2012 5:02 pm
It wasn’t Chris.
Christopher Gallo wasn’t one to cry, or at least Paris had never seen it. Paris, on the other hand, often found himself overwhelmed for one reason or another, with nothing left to do but give in and let the tears fall and then pick himself back up later, when he pain had eased and he felt capable of moving on without any further emotional displays.
He had a very good reason, of course—this time. He thought he always had a very good reason (he wasn’t going to cry over nothing), but the despair seemed more appropriate this week than any other, given what had happened only a week ago. With Chris out on patrol for the evening, Paris felt it was safe to let himself cry unrestrainedly without worrying his boyfriend, who didn’t hover but certainly knew how to express his concern, and had been known to do some rather stupid things when he was at a loss but wanted to show support.
The drinking incident, for example. Paris was sure that whole affair did not require a repeat.
He was on the large, low bed up in the loft, bawling in the glow of the television screen. The window Kallichore had found was to his left and led out onto the fire escape. He’d left it open for Chris, who’d slipped out and promised to be back nearly two hours ago. Paris was obviously not expecting company and gave a startled yelp upon seeing Kallichore’s face out the window.
“Sweet Jesus ********!” he screeched through his tears. He lost his breath momentarily and brought a hand to his chest as he struggled to regain it, inhaling several breaths in quick succession while his heart hammered away. “What the hell are you doing here?! Christ, do you always come creeping in to people’s windows?! What if I was some completely random stranger you just scared out of their minds?!”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 13, 2012 5:30 pm
Kallichore's face showed as much shock as it usually did, which wasn't much. Her stony exterior did little to give away what she was feeling at the time. Rather, her version of shock was several rapid blinks and thin lips. She didn't come in through the window, fearing retribution in the form of projectile household objects. "My apologies... I thought someone was injured and I came to check... Paris?" Her brows furrowed, grey touching grey. She'd never seen any of the Jovians cry, let alone Paris, though to her he seemed a most likely candidate.
But why?
"Are you alright, Paris?" she cautioned, daring not to lean over and peer in too much. The television was casting a mesmerizing glow across the room but she couldn't tell what was playing. She suspected a sad movie or perhaps a pivotal moment in some romantic comedy. Paris was much more of a private person, perhaps even more than she was, and the last thing on her mind was to ruin what little of a bond they had. The fact that they'd been able to bridge a rather large gap was monumental in and of itself. Kallichore was still surprised when she thought back on it.
Instead, the eternal senshi sat down on the railing she was perched on before, hands folded in her lap. "I was out patrolling and my route took me this way. I didn't mean to startle you."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 13, 2012 8:08 pm
Of all his friends and acquaintances, the Jovians included, Kallichore was quite possibly the last person Paris would like to catch him crying. Usually, he did his best not to do so around other people; he did, indeed, prefer to keep certain things private, and this was one of them. That he’d been heard by someone passing outside embarrassed him, and that that someone was Kallichore…
Well, there were reasons he insisted that Chris keep the loft window locked.
“I’m fine,” he said. He moved quickly and reached for a tissue, wiping the tears from his cheeks and scowling when it came away damp and smudged with black. He should have remembered to take his mascara off.
“You shouldn’t linger around by the window,” he told her. His nose felt wet and stuffy and his voice sounded thick in his own ears. “Either leave or come inside and power down. I don’t want anyone tracking you here.”
Paris knew he probably sounded a bit rude. Kallichore was only here, it seemed, out of concern, and under normal circumstances he could appreciate that. But nothing about this week had been normal despite it having absolutely nothing to do with the powered side of his life. Furthermore, he’d thought he was alone. Now there was another person who suspected something was wrong, and he doubted she’d so readily believe his rather weak claim that he was fine.
No one else had.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 13, 2012 8:31 pm
Her movements were swift and concise, especially after Paris neatly pointed out that an eternal signal was quite easily traceable. In a single motion, Kallichore devolved into a gray haired teen wearing completely normal clothing. Paris' room was bathed momentarily in crimson-on-cyan light before it disappeared in the blink of an eye. She tilted her head at him, gazing at the blonde in a way that spoke of wishing for telepathy. It was clear that something was upsetting him, but without wanting to pry, Christa was left trying to guess.
Paris seemed to her to be one of the collected people of the group - rather sure of himself and in some control of his life. Whether this was true was beyond her. They did not know each other especially well and tonight felt more prickly like usual, like severely cold wind sweeping over the skin.
She kept her voice low. Though this was just a guess, a shot in the dark, she found herself more terrified than she logically should be. What could Paris do to her if angered? Nothing, really. She had height, muscle mass and a pool of viciousness she could tap into whenever necessary. She was a biter. A puller of hair. Anything and everything to succeed and be victorious. But now? Dealing with something as fragile as feelings was horrifying. "...something's wrong, Paris. And... it's okay... to admit it."
Christa realized then that really, who was she to talk? She cried once, once in front of the Jovians, during their first meeting. That raw pain from the betrayal of Ares caused her to break down in a way she never thought possible. Even now that anger and thirst for vengeance was welling up in the back of her throat. "...we can't be strong all the time."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 13, 2012 9:01 pm
Paris scoffed and threw the used tissue into the garbage can before reaching for another one, dabbing the mascara from his face before it could dry into dark tracks.
“Of course something’s wrong.”
He meant to snap it but his voice trembled halfway through and the final two words came out sounding feeble and shaky. He sniffed to clear his nose and though he did what he could to mop up his pitiful state, the tears continued to fall freely from his eyes.
He certainly didn’t consider himself strong, nor did he put much effort into trying to be. If he seemed so at times, it was news to him. He thought he was capable, durable, steadfast, and marginally talented, maybe not at being a senshi but definitely as a dancer, and since that was what he really wanted to be, he thought it counted more. But “strong” was not a word he typically associated with himself. Chris was strong, Europa was strong, even Kallichore had a sort of strength Paris thought he lacked as a senshi.
“It’s…” he tried to explain. Paris would have preferred not going into details, but she was here and he figured he owed her some sort of an explanation. He could have lied. He could have made up some bogus story about getting into a fight with Chris, but that seemed sort of pathetic and he wasn’t sure she’d believe it.
“It’s just… my dad… he’s been sick for a while…” he said haltingly. “…he died last week… It’s… still sort of fresh, so I… I mean… I knew it could happen, but… well, he’s my dad…”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Apr 14, 2012 12:25 pm
"...he’s my dad…”
Her own father was one of the few familial connections Christa had left. Bradley was taken from her and Melinda not a year before and her mother left without saying goodbye. She'd never seen or heard from her mother since. That piercing feeling of loneliness and emptiness so profound that it transcended time and birthdays and achievements. It transcended everything. It was the kind of pain that could be felt by a child when he was forty years old and thought to be past it, all grown up, and now Paris was experiencing that loss at such a tender age.
It wasn't fair. Disagreements they may have had, but Paris did not deserve this.
Christa's long brown skirt trailed along behind her as she cautiously approached the blonde. He was devastated. She could plainly see it in the bend of his body, he gooseflesh of his skin and the trembling in his voice. Who wouldn't be? Christa knew loss, but nothing quite like this. She wasn't sure what to do. Melinda was always there to help her when things were difficult, even in childhood. She looked up to her cousin like she looked up to Ares. What would Melinda do when life became overwhelming and all one could ask for was comfort?
Biting her lip, her heart nearly beat a hole through her chest as she sat down quietly beside the one senshi she'd butted heads with most during their tenure as teammates. She still remembered his screaming, calling her a liar when she omitted being an active part of one of the most bloodthirsty Courts the senshi had ever seen. Kallichore had never been ashamed to admit that she liked being a part of a Court that got things done, but Christa now felt herself regretting it. Never once did she think that a death would have robbed a family of a child. Never once did she think that person could have been a cousin, an aunt, a grandchild, a sister or a brother to someone she cared about. Never once did she think it wasn't alright to kill one to save many.
But, in this fragile moment, Paris had taught her that lesson. It was all too clear to her now.
The gray haired teen, aptly named the Stony Maiden of the Jovian Court by one Babylon Knight, slowly wrapped her arms around the blonde in an attempt to comfort him the way her cousin Melinda would have for her. Memories of curling up in her cousin's arms, crying out her problems onto a steady shoulder came back to her in streams. There was a gift Melinda gave to her once, long before she was Serpentarius, and Christa now thought that Paris deserved what little she could give him in his time of need. It may not have meant much to him at all, but Christa was at a loss otherwise. Taking in a deep breath, she began to sing the one song she knew, taught to her by a beloved cousin and faithful friend. Her voice was low and soft, but the rumble of the words could be felt through her body.
Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Alles schläft; einsam wacht
Nur das traute hochheilige Paar,
Holder Knabe im lockigen Haar,
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh,
Schlaf in himmlischer Ruh...
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Mon Apr 16, 2012 2:51 pm
He felt pathetic. He felt young and stupid and pathetic and so out of control of everything—and maybe that was the part he hated most, that bad things were happening that he couldn’t stop. It was, perhaps, a situation he’d spent much of his life trying to avoid, either by pretending he didn’t care even when he did, or painstakingly fighting for control over his own life, prying it piece by piece from the people who hurt him until the only person he had to rely on was himself.
But he couldn’t control this because this was so much different. This wasn’t being abandoned by someone who should have cared, or mistreated by someone who should have known better. This was death. This was much more final. This was something that could not be changed. There was no rewind button. There weren’t any second chances. His father was dead and gone and nothing Paris could do or say was going to make a difference.
He almost pulled away, almost shoved Christa back with the command to be left alone right there on the tip of his tongue, but he wasn’t strong enough to do it. Oh, he might have been physically strong enough to manage it. He could had moved away when she’d first begun her approach, or kept her at arm’s length if he’d bothered to lift his arms to block her, but he was mentally and emotionally exhausted. He’d spent too many days letting himself feel numb. All the while the emotions had been building higher and stronger, and now that they’d finally burst through—first with his mother and now here in the darkness of Chris’s apartment—there was no way for them to be restrained.
Maybe it would have been better if he’d let himself feel at the very beginning. Maybe it would have been easier to cope if he’d let it all out then. It was too late for that now. All he could do was lay there and let Christa embrace him and hope it stopped soon, because he didn't know how much longer he could deal with behaving like this before he tried to feel numb again.
The voice singing in his ear startled him. It was not, he supposed, a completely alien gesture, given that his mother used to sing to him when he’d been younger, but as Christa was one of the last people he’d like to see him cry, she was also one of the last people he’d expect to hear singing in comfort.
He didn’t understand the words, but he could guess by the tune. The melody he knew, though he usually heard it only around Christmas. He suspected, by the sound of it, that it might be German, and he found himself wondering if Christa knew the language. He didn’t know why the idea should surprise him.
“Careful,” he sniffled and said, “I might tell all the others you’re really just a sap.”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 17, 2012 6:21 pm
To be perfectly honest with herself, she was utterly terrified. More frightened than when she had seen Ares' corruption firsthand, more horrified than when she'd barely made it out alive. Battles were something she was very familiar with. Intimate moments, raw emotions and mental pain were things she didn't understand, and for many years, never wanted to. As she sat there cradling the person who used to be her worst enemy, she had to swallow a lump in her throat and let go of a chuckle building up instead her.
"Careful," she repeated, giving a long sigh to steady her heartbeat. "I know where you sleep now, you know."
The threat wouldn't be needed, she knew, but part of her wanted to return to her normally stoic exterior in desperation. She couldn't stop the flood of images, the thoughts about what life would be like without her own father, or her brother, or even Melinda. What would she do? Who did Paris have left? She knew Chris would stay by his side - Chris was a dependable, honest sort of man. A rarity. But did he have a permanent residence here? Would he be safe? Was he financially stable?
Christa wondered what had happened to her to make her actually care. She was so used to playing the role of senshi - protector, vanguard, striker, near-murderer, stalker, infiltrator. Friend was a whole different class of being that one Christabelle Calloway was afraid of. She didn't know how to act the part of caring individual - she was hard and hardened just like her mother, an ice queen to rule the arctic. Christa got things done in a timely and gruesomely efficient manner. She felt more machine than human sometimes, especially when in costume.
Gods she was thinking about this too much.
The gray haired teen shook her head and didn't notice that she'd been steady rocking the blonde back and forth while she sang.
Stille Nacht, heilige Nacht,
Hirten erst kundgemacht
Durch der Engel Halleluja,
Tönt es laut von fern und nah:
Christ, der Retter ist da
Christ, der Retter ist da
"Paris," she started and then stopped suddenly, as if the thought turned over on itself and looked back at her, perplexed. Christa almost didn't start again and wasn't sure if she wanted to speak the rest of that thought, to give it life. "...Chris will take care of you, won't he? Do you... need anything?"
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Apr 17, 2012 7:01 pm
Paris was lucky in that he wasn’t completely alone. No, the situation was not an idea one, and it would likely take him some time before he was truly able to cope with what had happened, but he wasn’t alone. He had his mother, and Chris, and Chris’s family, and his friends. He had a place to live, and money to sustain himself, and plans for a future he still didn’t intend to give up on. He had the Jovians, too, who made his life as a senshi a little bit easier every day.
He sniffled some more but managed a small laugh as Christa returned his teasing. The tears still hadn’t stopped—he wondered when they would—but he could feel the pain ebbing for a time. He might not always like crying in front of people, yet when he did… when he received comfort, even from someone he struggled to see eye-to-eye with… it made him feel like things would actually be okay.
Really okay this time. Like there was something good out there to follow all the bad.
Paris nodded and lifted a hand to try to wipe the tears from his cheeks again. “Chris asked me to move in here with him, so… I mean, I won’t be alone. I have a place to live. And I have people who’ll look after me. I guess I just… need time, really. It’s not an easy thing…”
After a few more moments Paris shifted a bit in Christa’s embrace, just enough to look up at her. He tried not to feel awkward or uncomfortable. It was rather warm, laying with someone, and he’d always been a fan of physical affection, but he had to admit this was a first for he and Christa—almost unlikely, in a way, but not altogether unwelcome.
“It sounded nice,” he told her. “The song. German, right? It usually sounds kind of harsh, doesn’t it? But when you sang it… it was kind of peaceful. My dad… when I was little… he taught me French.”
He wouldn’t have much of a reason to speak it anymore, he thought. Not that he'd ever spoken it all that much in the first place, at least not anywhere but home.
“Douce nuit, sainte nuit,” he sang anyway, less confident and more tremulous than usual.
“Dans les cieux, L'astre luit,
Le mystère annoncé s'accomplit,
Cet enfant sur la paille endormi,
C'est l'amour infini
C'est l'amour infini…”
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Apr 19, 2012 5:39 pm
Oddly enough, she didn't mind being used as a sofa and as a human tissue, but that was what it was like to give comfort, wasn't it? Was this how Melinda felt when the Calloway's first hamster died and both children were incredibly distraught? Christa herself had a hard time opening up and trusting anyone, and she wondered if there would be a time when she would seek and need that same sort of relief from Paris. Would he even give it? Would she care if he did or didn't?
"I can't even imagine what you're going through right now," A lock of hair dislodged itself and clouded her vision. "You take all the time you need. You have... all the time in the world, really." And he was safe so long as he didn't henshin. Christa knew Paris wouldn't risk trying to patrol without having the mental stability to do so. He wouldn't risk himself like that. She would, in a heartbeat, but she was bizarre and less put-together than she attempted to appear to be.
She envied Paris on many levels.
His compliment disarmed her a little. Being that she just sang the only song she knew how to sing, she didn't expect any positive remarks from someone who seemed to practically live art. She was flustered. "Ah... yes, yes it is German. ...you see, my cousin, Melinda... she taught my brother and I many years ago. Before Bradley died, all four of us would get together and sing for our parents at Christmas time," She bit her lip. When did she decide she needed to explain all this? It was nerve wracking. "...it's the only song I know. It's the first time... I've sung it to someone who wasn't in my family." Christa seemed utterly floored by the admission, like the blonde had somehow infected her with some sort of virus, causing her to care all of a sudden.
The gray haired teen closed her eyes when the blonde began to sing. Though his voice trembled, she could never blame him. It was angelic and part of her could see what drew Chris to him - there was a light there, an inner fire - while timid, still bright and soft and proud. Like a candle in the window, ready to welcome you home after a day toiling in a world so cold and harsh. While she didn't know a lick of French, Christa believed the language sounded more beautiful than words could describe.
She began to hum in tune with Paris, her voice much lower than his in what she hoped was a nice accompaniment.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Apr 19, 2012 7:47 pm
It was… strange… to be here like this. When he ignored the fact that this normally very serious girl was really Kallichore it seemed like a more natural action to hold and be held, but when he reminded himself that she was more than just an awkward, serious girl… it took a while for his brain to process the reality of the situation. Never once since the first night he’d met her had he ever thought he’d one day be in Chris’s apartment, in Chris’s bed, letting Kallichore-turned-Crazy Christa hug him and hold him and sing to him the way his mother used to.
He liked her more like this—not just as a civilian but as someone who had feelings, as someone who had a past, who had loved ones. Paris thought she seemed real this way. As a senshi it was hard for him to get to know people—Kallichore especially, but some of the others, too. They seemed unreal to him, perhaps because the entire notion of magic still seemed unreal to him even a year later. Magic made it possible to hide who they really were beneath the veil of a transformation. They could disguise the parts of themselves they didn’t like and be someone different.
“Thank you,” he said quietly, after his voice had trailed off and they sat in a comfortable silence.
And that was weird. Silences with Christa weren’t supposed to be comfortable. Yet tonight it was. Tonight he thought they might have finally breached that wall between simple acquaintances to something like friends.
“I’ll be okay…” he assured her. He’d repeated the same thing so many times the day his father had gone in for surgery. Then, he’d known it to be a lie. Now, Paris could almost make himself believe it was true.
He was getting drowsy, his voice dropping off and fading away. It was late. He had to have cried for more than an hour, long before Christa had made her way onto the fire-escape. Of course, he’d cried so much in the last few days he was surprised he could even still do it. The memories made sleeping almost impossible, but Christa was warm, and he was surprisingly comfortable like this. Soon Paris’s eyes drifted closed and his breathing slowly began to even out.
“… one day…” he mumbled, completing the thought. Then he drifted off, into that place halfway between dreaming and waking.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2012 7:08 pm
Brown eyes rested atop a golden-crowned head and she sighed, pulling the boy just a little closer. In many ways she thought she accomplished something here, even if it wasn't what she intended. When she set out that night, it was to take down at least one youma, perhaps scare off a Nega or two. But this? Never in her wildest dreams would she have thought she'd end up in this position. It was awkward, warm and fuzzy and incredibly alien. Ever since her mother left them stranded, Christa turned inward and tried desperately to ward off everyone around her. She was all she could rely on.
Perhaps then, in that strange and delicate moment, Christa realized she and Paris were more alike than she ever thought possible.
"...you're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Paris." came a low admission. She didn't wish to break the silence and instead spoke in time with it. "...you won't crumble from this. You have many people who want to see you thrive. You won't let them down." She smiled then, a simple, easy smile. Something akin to release was happening then, the tension in her shoulders and in the air dissipating. Her rapid heart rate was beginning to slow. Feelings and emotions and delicacy was still so foreign to her, but Paris seemed an expert. He danced and flitted about like a butterfly in the social sphere, something Christa could never do herself.
But they were learning from one another, bit by bit. Perhaps this was what destiny was all about.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Apr 20, 2012 11:35 pm
Whatever Chris had been expecting as he climbed down the fire escape from the roof to the first landing, it certainly wasn't the scene that was presented to him. At first he had to make sure he was at the right window, but when he realized that it was, well...
"... Christa?" he stared, having not entered through the window just yet, but trying to get an assessment of what was going on. Christa... Sailor Kallichore... was in his bed... with his boyfriend...
Had something happened??
His initial confusion quickly turned to concern as he climbed through the window. "Are you okay? Is Paris okay?" he asked, staring from Christa to the young man in question. He didn't look like he was injured, although he seemed a bit pale. Well, paler than usual... aside from his cheeks, which were a bit red from what Chris could only assume was crying.
For a moment he wondered if he should be interrupting whatever was going on. He could have gone back to patrolling for another hour or so, but after dusting an annoying little youma with needlessly large pincers, he was kind of done for the night.
Chris let out a long sigh, shaking his head as he decided he didn't want to know what was going on. He figured Paris would tell him whatever the hell was going on when he woke up that morning...
"I'll... just get some stuff and sleep on the couch... Feel free to stay the night, Christa," he offered, heading to the bathroom to wash the cuts on his arm from the youma. "Help yourself to whatever... there's extra toothbrushes under the sink..." After that he'd grab his toothbrush and some sweats and head downstairs.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Apr 21, 2012 9:26 am
Christa found herself startled when Chris arrived in the window. Duh, he lived here! She sincerely hoped he didn't suspect anything. Why would he? Paris and herself were usually at each other's throats so this must've looked... really awkward. She made sure Paris had sufficient blankets covering him before she got up to follow the blonde's boyfriend. She had a desperate need to explain. Surely it can't have looked too bad, could it? In a hushed voice, Christa started to plead.
"I was patrolling and my route took me this way," she started, watching for the dull glow of the bathroom light. It flicked on, sending rays of yellow out into the hall. Christa leaned against the wall and crossed her arms. "I heard crying, I thought someone was injured... When I found out it was Paris, he told me to power down and..." And then we had this... bonding moment. She furrowed her brows in confusion. Had she really changed that much, or was this just a fluke of circumstance? "Really, it's your place and I should probably just go." I can't have you sleeping on the couch in your own apartment. What kind of monster would I be?
She thought she'd made things awkward enough already.
But there was something kind, gentle and accommodating about Chris. Brown eyes were cast down to the carpet and she started to see what Paris found so attractive in him. He was strong when others needed him, level-headed in the face of adversity and possessed a kindness that belied the strength he had inside him. Truly they were fortunate to have Valhalla as a teammate and Chris himself as a friend. Christa thought she could learn a great deal from each of them, the Jovians, the people she considered her extended family.
Out came a cellphone from her sweater pocket and she sent a quick text to her father, explaining she was out studying at Tallulah's house and would stay the night since it was late already. "At least let me make you something to eat?" An embarrassed flush crept over her face. She wasn't used to having friends, let alone people kind enough to allow her to stay.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
