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Summary
She shifts her weight from one foot to the other and gives him a wary, sweeping glance. She finally breaks the silence. “I never figured you for a romantic.” Her voice is sharp and unforgiving. “Or were those the only clean clothes you could find in that hovel you call a house?”
She knows he's always conscious of his image, immaculate as hers, since vanity is a weakness they share. She knows this just as much as she knows the long, leather trench coat and red button down he's wearing are deliberate.
He pulls back her strawberry blonde hair from where it was shielding her neck and proceeds to caress her skin.
“But sweetheart,” He mocks. “It's our anniversary. I thought you'd appreciate the gesture.”
Series
- Part 1 of Resurrection