[ she makes a game of guessing what he's doing depending on the sounds that come from the kitchen. in the long pause where it's only the drip of water filtering through the grounds, she works her jacket off without ever fully sitting up. the friction from her inelegant wiggling crams her scarf full of static that crackles when she pulls it free of her hair. by the time they're in a pile beside her, she feels more heated from the struggle than the room. hairs are still adhering to her fingers with mild electricity as she swipes them from her cheeks and mouth. ]
Decaf? [ she asks instead of thanking him, grateful as she is. really more grateful than a cup of coffee should make her feel but the coffee's all she's capable of looking at right this second, so it's the coffee's fault. for how much she missed the coffee. ]
no subject
Decaf? [ she asks instead of thanking him, grateful as she is. really more grateful than a cup of coffee should make her feel but the coffee's all she's capable of looking at right this second, so it's the coffee's fault. for how much she missed the coffee. ]