Doc peered from around the edge of the door, eyes huge and ears perked forward, then tipped her head inquisitively to the side. She opened her mouth and emitted what could only be called a squeak, before scampering halfway across the room to wash her rear leg very firmly.
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“Don’t give me that face. You are gorgeous. Your eyes, your hair — I fucking love your hair. The way your fingers are, and just the whole /length/ of you.” She disdained answering the bit about sociopathy.
He cocked his brow. “My hair is a nuisance but I’m too busy and lazy to get it cut. Besides my fingers aren’t that amazing. They’re just like yours,” he replied, making a face.
“Please don’t cut it.” Summer went over to him, taking his hands. She put hers palm-to-palm with his, smiling at how his overtopped hers by a whole fingerjoint. “They aren’t like mine at all. They’re long and elegant, your fingers, lovely and dexterous. You look all limbs but the way you move — you don’t even notice but it’s like watching a big cat, all grace and danger.” She curled one of his hands around her cheek for a moment, then turned to kiss each fingertip. “I love the way your whole face changes when you smile,” she murmured against his palm, “a real smile, not the pretend-to-get-along-with-humans smiles you like to give. You /are/ gorgeous, I’m a shadow next you.”
Long Story Short
((Jane are you hitting your own head with a bottle….
Anyway you know what this means
TOUCH ALL OF TONY’S STUFF.
((Can I sneak in and rewire the workshop? *.*))
((Yes. NO. WAIT. Tony’s workshop probably eats people that do that.))
((ACK, that’s a good point, I won’t go down there! But let’s drink all his liquor! And then I will redesign his stupid fucking webpage so it works))