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Summary
Heathcliff laughs like a teenager in a high school hallway, teasing his crush. He reaches out to toy with the ends of Gregor’s hair; the other Sinner doesn’t stop him, just watches him as he idly plays with it. “So, like, we’re prolly gonna end up doin’ nothin’ in here for hours… right?”
“Probably. At least until Faust gets us out.” Gregor taps the ashes onto the floor. “Nothin’ we can do until then. You’ve got a couple of ideas?”
“Not a couple. More like one. If ya felt like it.” Heathcliff says, taking Gregor’s cigarette from him, stealing a drag himself. He holds it just out of Gregor’s reach, taunting, tempting the other man closer. “You game?”
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