[ A tinge of worry slithers through to the forefront of her mind, that she pulls her hand back if only to tangle it in his soft hair, and caressing down to the side of his face, the warmth of his cheek against her palm. ]
Dinner is a cassoulet. [ Is all she says, for now. ] Nothing as fancy as what you're probably used to eating.
no subject
Dinner is a cassoulet. [ Is all she says, for now. ] Nothing as fancy as what you're probably used to eating.