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Summary
“I also know what you want from me, Alhaitham.” Those rosy cheeks, fair complexion, silver hair, moonkissed hair- it’s rare in the nation of Wisdom under the scorching sun. In the dusk-lit alley, away from searching eyes, she doesn’t even wear an Akasha terminal as she creeps her small hand onto his that holds her wrist.
“Will you give it to me?” He asks, professional and all. Her hand massages his knuckles, the size difference makes his mouth water for some reason. There’s a sense of sleepiness…? His mind blurs at the edges. There’s no way this girl is just a girl, there’s something off with her. He needs to reclaim his consciousness before she can smooth his memories down to-
“I will.”
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Alhaitham takes a girl home, a little younger than usual. She doesn't break.
