❪ pale fingers tremble something wicked, makes it look like the last thing she truly needs to indulge is the glass of whiskey cradled in her hands, having been topped off too many times to count. it's why she prefers josie's, why she ducks in at ungodly hours of the night after letting golden tresses down from their pin; after staring numbly off into rain-slated streets when her dad ends that call one more time; after that psychopath laying reign to hells kitchen once more conned himself out of prison, like a gift lacing itself up with an even grander, velvety bow.
she knows she's practically exuding cynicism, white blouse folded up her forearms and golden, petite necklace hanging between her collars, but the last thing she's looking for is company, and josie knows by now not to say a word, when to pour, and when to cut her off so she can still make it back to the apartment that sits idly in waiting for her.
she's already taunted her with a look as if another inch or two of the amber liquid would really do her in, and maybe it's the secretarial profile she eases into too well that rewards her another clink of a refill, responding with a gentle rap on the counter in thanks, and white teeth claiming purchase to lower lip. ❫
→ ｆｏｒ：fancysuit.
she knows she's practically exuding cynicism, white blouse folded up her forearms and golden, petite necklace hanging between her collars, but the last thing she's looking for is company, and josie knows by now not to say a word, when to pour, and when to cut her off so she can still make it back to the apartment that sits idly in waiting for her.
she's already taunted her with a look as if another inch or two of the amber liquid would really do her in, and maybe it's the secretarial profile she eases into too well that rewards her another clink of a refill, responding with a gentle rap on the counter in thanks, and white teeth claiming purchase to lower lip. ❫
Why I love you, Jos.