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SPACE Duct Tape

Discussion in 'Private Roleplay' started by Dieter Kohler, Jan 8, 2018.

  1. Dieter Kohler

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    Frustratingly unable to literally melt into her, he pressed his face into the nook of her neck and shoulder, feeling far more content there than he could remember being in a very, very long time. He suddenly found himself wishing that they were headed anywhere but Phoebe. Maybe they could break off the mission, cut thrust, space every goddamn Belter on the ship apart from Keith, and just…do this, instead.

    “Oh. Did I fail to mention that I have to be very, very, very drunk, first?” His voice was a little muffled from being pressed against her, but he wasn’t about to put space in between them to fix it. “More than usual, I mean.”

    “Hey. I have an idea,” he continued, pressing his lips to her neck in the pauses between sentences. “Maybe we can break off the mission, cut thrust, space every goddamn Belter on the ship apart from Keith, and just…do this, instead?”
     
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  2. Violet

    Violet Mackenzie

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    A tremor ran down the length of Violet's spine as Dieter's lips pressed against the soft flesh of her neck. It was thoroughly distracting. Trying to focus on what he was saying to her was a struggle.

    Her head tilted to the side, exposing more of her neck to him as a content murr hummed in the back of her throat. This was something that she didn't want to end. Ever. Having him this close to her was both exhilarating and calming.

    She reached up with her free hand, gently running her fingers through his short hair as she twisted around just enough so that she could kiss his temple. His suggestion didn't sound half bad to her at this point in time. What if they just called off the whole thing? It was by far the best plan she had heard in months.

    Cocooned in his warmth with his jacket draped over her form, she didn't want to move. Instead, she opted to gently trace her fingers along the nape of his neck as she gave a content, pleasant sigh. "I wholeheartedly agree with that idea, Dee."
     
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  3. Dieter Kohler

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    “Oh yeah?”
    he asked, planting one last pair of kisses on her neck before leaning back to look up at her with a wicked little smirk. “Okay.”

    With that, he painfully forced himself to unwind from her, scooted out from underneath her and let her plop down onto he footlocker. Very deliberately looking her in the eyes the entire time, he backed over to a wall locker, withdrew the shotgun they’d picked up on Ceres, and very, very, very slowly started to reach for the door handle, eyes widening the entire time at her - a horrifically twisted joke. “Which one is Keith, again?”
     
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  4. Violet

    Violet Mackenzie

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    The metal of the footlocker was jarringly cold, and she grimaced at the feel of it.

    "Dieter!" She hissed sharply at him, keeping her voice low so that she didn't wake up any of the sleeping Belters outside. Before he could reach the handle to the door, she scrambled off the foot looker and rushed over to him.

    She grabbed his hand and pulled it back from the handle with a low chuckle, careful to keep the shotgun in his other hand from hitting her in the face. "You think you're funny."
     
  5. Dieter Kohler

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    He shrugged, shifting the shotgun out of the way to dangle from his fingertips as he took a step towards Violet to that he was toe-to-toe with her, as if squaring up for a throw-down. With their height dynamic restored, he looked down at her smugly, snaking his empty hand around her waist and eliminating what little distance was left between them. “That’s because I am funny.”
     
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  6. Violet

    Violet Mackenzie

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    As he stepped closer to her, Violet raised her chin defiantly up at him and crossed her arms. A mock scowl formed on her features, brow knitting together and a frown pulling at the corners of her mouth -- but she could only hold the expression for a moment before she chuckled quietly. Her head tilted back so that she could hold his gaze, a smirk on her lips.

    With his arm wrapped around her waist, her smile grew. Her hands came to rest against his chest; and she dipped her head forward just enough to brush her lips along the curve of his neck, coming to a stop at his ear.

    "Well, you're nae wrong there." She teased, lightly nipping at his earlobe.
     
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  7. Dieter Kohler

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    “Mmm. Glad I amuse you,” he shot back snarkily, jerking his head jokingly away from her vicious ear attack. He tried to come up with something else clever to say – but she was just too damn cute when she tried to look tough.

    Letting the shotgun clatter to the grating, he pressed forward again, gripping her by the waist and pushing her backwards the short distance to the wall behind her. He leaned forward against her, kissing her more aggressively, more urgently than before. Maybe it was a bit over the top. She seemed so small, so fragile - but maybe that was just after years spent matched or dwarfed by the female population of the belt. He leaned back a little, gave her room to breathe for a second, grinning guiltily. "Sorry. Too much?"
     
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  8. Violet

    Violet Mackenzie

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    The sound of the gun hitting the floor made her flinch for a brief moment, but it was quickly overshadowed by the fact that Dieter had just aggressively pressed her against the wall. She went stiff.

    Back on Tycho, Dieter had asked if Violet had always been on her own and he hadn't really believed her when she said that she had. The answer she had given him was the careful one. The one she told everyone, because it was easier.

    His lips pressed against hers -- demanding and heated. Conflicting emotions clashed internally. One moment it was Dieter holding her against the wall kissing her. The next it wasn't.

    What should have been a moment of excitement and bliss, was anything but.

    Terror. Helplessness
    . Pain.

    Violet froze.

    As he pulled back from her to grin down at her, she tried to take a breath, to force herself to calm down, but she couldn't. It was like the air had been sucked out of the room. It wasn't until he spoke that her eyes opened, tears brimming.
     
  9. Dieter Kohler

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    Something was wrong. He’d suspected it from the rigidness with which she’d reacted to his advance, but he knew it for certain when he saw her eyes. Oh shit. Had he hurt her? Scared her?

    It took him a second to realize what she needed was space, and not more contact to soothe her, and he jolted backwards, hands raised in almost a gesture of surrender at first – though they shifted to run back through his hair. “Shit. Vi – I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…shit.”

    His instinct told him to reach out to her – but instinct was also the bit that suggested that approach. He'd known that this was a bad idea. He'd known that she was too pure, too good to waste her time on the likes of him him. It had taken all of a few minutes to prove that. He shook his head, awkwardly hovering between backing away and coming to her side. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?”
     
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  10. Violet

    Violet Mackenzie

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    By taking a step back and giving her a moment to breathe, her mind was able to catch back up to the situation and what was really happening. Dread knotted in her stomach at Dieter's reaction. Of course, she had upset him. Who wouldn't get upset when the girl you're trying to kiss has a freaken breakdown in the middle of it all?

    Frustrated with herself, she reached up to wipe at her tear-filled eyes. For the first time in years she had a good thing going for her, and she ruined it. A sob choked itself in her throat as a torrent of emotion surged through her. The sleeves of his jacket soaked up the tears before they could spill down her cheeks.

    "I-I'm sorry... I... didnae mean t-... I'm sorry." She stammered to him, whimpering -- rapidly shaking her head back and forth as she hid her face in her hands. This was all her fault.

    What she wanted was for him to hold her, to tell her that it was okay, but she couldn't formulate the words.
     
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  11. Dieter Kohler

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    Perfect. Wonderful.

    Watching Violet tearfully try to take the blame made him too disgusted with himself to stomach. Reflexively, he started to reach to her, to comfort her, then stopped himself, pulling back twice before he exhaled and took a step back to resist the urge. That was all she needed. His filthy hands all over her again. Swallowing a lump in his throat, he wheeled around and slammed the open gear locker shut with enough force to rattle the whole bulkhead.

    "Goddamnit!"


    What the fuck was wrong with him? Violet wasn't some low-yen escort in Ceres - she was a sweet girl born on Earth to a family that loved her. Tough and independent but kind, maybe a little vulnerable, too. And that vulnerability had been exploited, he suspected, at some point before. It didn't take a history in detective work to see it, but having one didn't hurt, either.

    And here he'd just haphazardly blundered into her life and reopened an old would, because he couldn't keep it in his pants. Couldn't give her a second to breath, to be treated with the gentleness and patience she deserved. He was a burnt out piece of shit, and if he'd given a damn about her or the ship, he'd have stayed on Ceres, or hitched another ride.

    Massaging his temples between his palms, he stumbled over and collapsed onto his bunk, staring at the blank wall in front of him before turning to address her, pulling his face out of his hands, looking as if he'd aged a decade in the last thirty seconds.

    "Don't apologize, Vi," he shook his head, looking down at his hands. "I was out of line. Can you not....don't blame yourself? Please. It's not your fault. Really."
     
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  12. Violet

    Violet Mackenzie

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    The out lash against the weapons locked behind him made Violet flinch and she shied away from him, briefly raising her hands up defensively. How else was he supposed to react? Everything had been going so well, and it all fell apart because she couldn't keep herself together. She never should have let this happen.

    Slowly, she sank down onto the floor across from him, leaning her back against the bulkhead behind her. Doubt, remorse, frustration, all clouded her mind -- weighing down on her like a ship under hard burn. She felt like she was going to be sick. Her arms wrapped around her shins, hugging her legs to her chest as she pressed her forehead against her knees.

    Dieter didn't deserve what had just happened. It wasn't fair to him. Her fingers curled tightly into the sleeves of the jacket she wore. He certainly didn't need to deal with this. Why would anyone want to?

    A hollow loneliness crept through her, eating away at the resolve she had spent so long rebuilding -- it felt like ice slithering through her veins.

    She didn't want to cry in front of him. It would only make things worse than they already were. Why couldn't she just be normal? Why was it that every time she tried to move on, this happened? Would she always be trapped... there?

    Broken. The word echoed in her head like a curse.

    The sound of Dieter's voice reached her. There was pain in his voice when he spoken.

    He wouldn't touch her; hell, he refused to even look at her. She felt something lodge in her throat as she lifted her head to look up at him. He was seated on the bed across from her, staring down at his hands.

    "I was out of line" She heard the words, but they didn't process in her rattled brain for several seconds.

    Finally, she felt as if she could speak. She had to. It hadn't been his fault -- he hadn't done anything wrong. Her head shook a few times to buy herself some time before she tried to respond.

    "Nae, Dieter. You were nae out of line... It's' nae your fault."
    Her voice sounded weak, brittle -- like she was about to break. She hated it.
     
  13. Dieter Kohler

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    There was a long silence. She was defending him again, blaming herself - and it felt so much worse than it might have if she struck him, threw something at him, or screamed at him. Those were familiar. Those were permission to run for the hills, and normally, at this point, he would do exactly that: pack it up, move along, avoid it all together. This was something else - something he felt compelled to fix, even if he didn’t have the first goddamned idea how to go about that.

    She hadn’t run. He wasn’t sure why that only occurred to him now. She was seated right next to the door, had all the time in the world to make her escape, and she’d opted not to. He certainly wasn’t stopping her. Was she paralyzed with grief or fear, or did she need some kind of help from him? The silence was starting to get to him. He needed to at least try to do something..

    Feeling a bit like an arsonist firefighter rushing into a burning building to save the day armed with a blowtorch, he rose carefully from the bed and padded across the cramped room and put his back to the wall alongside her, gently sliding down to sit beside her as carefully as if he thought too solid of an impact might set her off again, winding up closeish, but being careful not to touch her.

    “Violet, look. I wish I knew what to do here - what to say. I’m great a wrecking shit, no so much mending it.” He pulled his legs up to mimic her posture, but found it uncomfortable and ended up just stretching his legs out, sighing as he slouched against the steel of bulkhead. He closed as his eyes as he spoke - it made it easier to get outside of his comfort zone when he couldn’t see her looking at him. “I don’t need you to…explain anything. You don't owe me anything, and I don’t expect anything.”

    He opened his eyes again, his gaze flitting over to her as he held out his palm, facing up, fingers splayed - an offering if she wanted it, easy to withdraw if she didn’t. He forced a weak little smile at her. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s fine.”
     
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  14. Violet

    Violet Mackenzie

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    He didn't insult her. He didn't throw a fit, or rant about what had just happened. All he wanted to do, was help her.

    She was stunned.

    Despite what he thought, she wasn't scared of him. He was probably one of two or three people that she could honestly say that of. Keith being the other. She hadn't expected him to stay, let alone take a seat next to her.

    That loneliness ebbed as she held his gaze and her teeth pulled at her lower lip.

    If there was anyone in the galaxy that she would take a risk on, it was him. She didn't care how crazy that sounded at this point. They two of them had been through so much together already -- hell, they even had matching tattoos. Who does that? The thought brought a faint smile to her lips.

    He wasn't trying to pressure her. All he offered was his support and companionship. No demands were made, no angry words tossed in her direction.

    With her tattooed arm, she reached out and gently laced her fingers through his with a strained smile. The simple contact was reassuring, soothing.

    Blubbering apologies weren't going to get her anywhere, and he had made it clear that he didn't want them. She took a deep breath and leaned over to him, resting her head on his shoulder as she curled against side -- her hand in his.

    She wanted him to know that it wasn't his fault, that she wasn't upset with him, or afraid of him. Not sure how else to tell him that it was okay, that he could touch her with her shattering, she squeezed his hand and closed her eyes as she leaned into him.

    "Thank you, Dieter..."
    She whispered softly.
     
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  15. Dieter Kohler

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    The guilt-shaped anvil laying on his chest seemed quite a bit lighter the second she interlaced her fingers into his. He still wished he had a rewind button, but at least the damage no longer seemed irreversible. It was going to be a okay. A moment later, the weight of her head on his shoulder was like an impossible breath of fresh air from the overworked scrubbers.

    “Sure, Vi. No problem.” He answered just above a whisper himself, shifting a little and resting his head against hers, kissing her almost imperceptibly softly on the top of her her head before nuzzling his cheek into her hair until he found a nice spot to settle. Strangely enough, even on grated metal flooring, he felt warmer and more comfortable in that moment than he’d ever felt on the Alby’s old stale crash couches or bunks.

    “You ever need to talk, I’m here. You need anybody dead? I’m here. Better at that one, probably.” The was no threat, no machismo in his tone - it was as gentle as he got. He’d ask someday. If the time felt right. And if whoever hurt her was still out there, still breathing? One more thing to add to the list.
     
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  16. Violet

    Violet Mackenzie

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    A soft smile spread over her features at his remark. The tension eased from her muscles as she relaxed against him -- the gentle kiss to the top of her head soothing her frayed nerves. Her fingers curled a bit more tightly in his hand. She turned her head just enough to the side so that she could press a tender kiss into his shoulder.

    Just sitting there with her on the cold floor meant more to her than she could put into words. She didn't need someone delicate or a silver-tongue. There were some problems that words just couldn't fix.

    Someday, she would be able to talk to him about it. About everything.

    For now, she was content to curl against him and enjoy the warmth he had to offer.

    "I know..." She mumbled softly to him, her thumb brushing against the back of his hand. "...But this is nice too."

    It wasn't long before the slender Scot had drifted off to sleep with her head on Dieter's shoulder. She couldn't remember the last time that she had gotten a proper night's rest. Normally, she would have struggled to fall asleep or would have simply given up and gone to work on something to keep her mind distracted.

    Tonight was different.

    For once, she felt safe. She had Dieter.
     
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  17. Dieter Kohler

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    Even after Violet’s respiration indicated that she had drifted off, Dieter was hesitant to move. It’d been a long time since he’d found himself in a position like this. In his experience, most interpersonal relationships - familial, platonic, romantic, sexual, even aspects of corporate and political - were treated with the same mentality that the Belt applied to life in general. Seize every moment you're given. Live every day like it’s your last, because it very well could be. If something is beyond repair or hampers one's existence in any way, the best place for it is the metaphorical airlock. Or literal, as the case may be. Belters weren't quite as hung up on clingy sentimentality or protracted, sappy romances, because the life of a rock-hopper didn't afford these. There were exceptions, of course, but many denizens of the outer planets, especially the youth, were prone to engage in a series of smoldering, passionate relationships that were usually as short-lived as they were intense.

    That brand of exciting, brinkmanship philosophy had seemed gloriously infectious to a younger Dieter, but over the past few years, his Earther roots were starting to show. He wasn't a twenty-something fresh out of military service anymore. He couldn't keep up on the wild partying, the electronic 'dating' services. He could no longer drink all night and work all day without fucking up one or the other - though that didn't prevent him from trying. The last thing he'd been in that could have approximated a relationship had almost killed him. Literally.

    It was too early to say with any degree of certainty, but Violet didn't strike him as a subscriber to that lifestyle. The pacing of their goofy little courtship felt pleasantly nostalgic, like two school-age teenagers back down the well. The exposure of a new frayed emotional nerve would have normally been the red flag signaling him towards rhe door, but it had somehow already coalesced with her physical injuries to lure out a primal defensive instinct within him. Of course, Dieter was aware that it could all still fizzle out in one heartbeat, if one of them mistepped, or hit another stumbling block that wasn't so easily circumnavigated. But for the time being, huddled together in the corner of his quarters, Dieter felt a sense of contentment that he'd all but forgotten existed.

    As such, he would have been more than happy to stay like that the rest of the night, but there were two problems with that. First, if the ship needed to unexpectedly manuever while they slept, with the amount of clutter around them, they were probably dead. Maimed, at the least. Secondly, and only slightly less importantly, even if they didn't die in their sleep, they would both have the harsh texture of the metal grate flooring semi-permanently stenciled in their asses the next morning. They already had matching tattoos. That was just overkill.

    After maybe an hour, Dieter finally went about carefully untangling himself from her, hoisted her with relative ease at under the sub-G thrust, and gently laid her in the bunk recessed into the wall. After that, he set about tidying - primarily packing and securing the objects that would make the most dangerous projectiles, (namely the shotgun and liquor bottles.) Satisfied that his room wasn't going to murder them in their slumber, he carefully squeezed onto the ancient lumpy, crunchy crash-gel beside her. There wasn't exactly much space, but he gave her what little a single bunk could afford, worried about her waking her up in another moment of panic if he moved to hold or embrace her. Once he was wedged in satisfactorily, he loosened the retention belt to accommodate the pair of them, fastened them in, and settled in face-to-face with her, unable to resist quickly pecking her on the nose before closing his eyes and drifting off an unusually restful state of unconsciousness.
     
    #57 Dieter Kohler, Jan 12, 2018
    Last edited: Jan 13, 2018
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  18. Violet

    Violet Mackenzie

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    [​IMG]
    The next morning, or at least, what counted as a 'morning' when you're hurtling through an inky black void with no real sense of time, Violet stirred awake. Well-rested for a change. Without even opening her eyes, she could tell that something was different. She was warm, usually she woke up half freezing to death.

    Her eyes fluttered opened, though it took them a few minutes to adjust to the darkness. It took her a moment to realize that she wasn't in her bunk, let alone her own room. There was a beat that her heart skipped, instinctively tensing up -- until she realized that Dieter was laying next to her. So, it wasn't a dream then. He must have moved her off the floor after she'd fallen asleep. Before, she would have said it was an unexpected gesture. Now, it just brought a smile to her face.

    For all his bravado and insisting that he was someone she should avoid, he seemed rather intent on proving himself wrong. She moved closer to him, which meant she scooted a few more inches in his direction, given their already close proximity. Her hand moved to rest against his hip as she leaned forward to delicately press her lips to his forehead.

    A small piece of plastic bumped against her thumb.

    The day before, Keith had sullenly given a syringe to the Terran for safe keeping after rushing out of the ops deck, only to return a short while later. There hadn't been any discussion on the matter, but she had recognized it for what it was -- a dose of subzero. Keith had likely given the syringe to Dieter for safe keeping, but here it was, sticking out of his pocket.

    Both men were clearly ridden with guilt about having to give her the injection of the narcotic back on Ceres -- both had even come to the hospital to apologize. She understood why they did it, and she was grateful that they had made the call that they had. It sure beat the alternative of being not alive.

    Unfortunately, there were side effects.

    Keith had warned her the drug was potent and horrifically addictive. She'd responded with a smile and told him it was okay. That she would deal with the consequences of not being dead. And here they were, staring her in the face.

    The hospital had supplied her with enough pain killers to keep the sensation at bay, for awhile, but those meds were starting to run low. What would happen when she ran out entirely? She hadn't told the others about the restlessness or the headaches, or that gnawing sensation in the back of her mind. They had already done enough for her.

    She should have let it be, and left the syringe tucked away in Dieter's pocket. Where it was safe.

    But she didn't.

    Careful not to wake him, she pulled the syringe from his trouser pocket and quickly tucked it away into the jacket she was still wearing. She didn't need it now. Not while she was curled up next to Dieter on the small bunk in his room.

    She snuggled into his chest and tucked her head beneath his chin, biting her lip as she wrapped her arm around his side. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.
     
  19. Dieter Kohler

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    Life hadn’t really permitted Dieter to be a light sleeper. Starting from his iffy upbringing on Earth to the laughable sleep schedule serving aboard a Navy combat vessel, and finally sleeping on stations packed with plenty of people who hated him just for being who he was, ‘sleep’ had the become brief, spotty thing become the thing that came after late night drinking, a couple uneasy of uneasy hours while he waited for his alarm to go off.

    However, that night, he’d slept what qualified as a normal, human amount, entirely uninterrupted. Rather than jolt awake to the screech of the terminal alarm he hadn’t set, his eyes lazily fluttered open of their own accord. His first groggy thought was that Violet was gone, which wouldn’t have been all that surprising - but a quick glance downward revealed a mess of reddish-brown hair, confirming that she was still there, huddled against him, just under his line of sight. That explained the warmth, his body’s stubborn unwillingness to move.

    He didn’t want to risk waking her, didn’t want to jeopardize the moment, but absurdly enough, he felt like he missed her. Needed to check in. Wrestling with the decision to bother her, he landed somewhere in the middle - gently scratching her back and speaking at a volume that barely qualified as a whisper.

    “Hey, you.”
     
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  20. Violet

    Violet Mackenzie

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    Violet stirred against him as she felt his fingers brush against her back, a smile on her lips. Nestled against him like she was, she didn't want to move and risk losing that comforting warmth that enveloped her. She nuzzled her forehead into his chest when he spoke, her arm squeezing a bit more tightly around his torso.

    The premise that she would have to get up soon was one that she actively avoided thinking about. She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, her breath whispering across his neck.

    "Hey you." She murmured back to him, lips brushing against the collar of his shirt. The sound of her voice was muffled against his chest, and her accent sounded a little thicker than normal. "M'Glad that last night was nae a dream..."
     

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