Strange watched in fascination, he always had that look when Miss Hardy stopped by. The blond thief had more than a few men tying themselves in knots to get her attention. “Kind of you.”
He moved to get the glass, sitting up in bed with the sheet around his waist, bare chest showing as he drank. +
ǝɓuɐɹʇS ɹoʇɔoꓷ
“Theirs a glass By your dresser, strange..” she smirked, downing a mouthful of the alcohol. She’d catch a few drops with her tongue. Feeling calm.
He’d never ask and he’d never roll her that they were always lowered for her.
“Is that my champagne? Did you pour me a glass?”
𝑭𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒂 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒚
ǝɓuɐɹʇS ɹoʇɔoꓷ
She’s leaned against the window seal of his bed chambers, with a glass of champagne.
“Don’t ask how this girl got past your enchantments dearest Stephen..”
