[She follows, trying not to laugh as they move down the halls, tempted to grab him and kiss him again. But they have time, and she wants to use it.
Bleu steps back as he locks the door, drinking in the sight of the room, his work, the little home he's made, the slices of fantasy he's chosen to add. She smiles, straight from her core.]
If I didn't know any better, I'd say an artist lives here.
[spam]
Bleu steps back as he locks the door, drinking in the sight of the room, his work, the little home he's made, the slices of fantasy he's chosen to add. She smiles, straight from her core.]
If I didn't know any better, I'd say an artist lives here.