(no subject)

[gallowseyes]

Sometimes he marvels at it, this life that he's made. He still hasn't found gainful employment -- he has no marketable skills to speak of, at least none that he's sunk so low as to charge for -- but the allowance from the city is enough to live on, his rooms comfortable, and he makes do.

He more than makes do.

Tonight, for example, finds him sprawled on a couch reading, Elora mirroring him. Absently, he reaches out with his free hand and runs his palm the length of the long muscle of her thigh, squeezing lightly.

This is so often how it starts.