[ So they sit there--in the stupid blue glow of their chests, under plants that spent the last couple of weeks threatening to take over the building--and Sam...he doesn't wonder what she feels, exactly, because he knows, but he wonders what she's thinking. What it's like inside her head, not just her heart, especially when they aren't touching.
He pulls her a little closer, his arm still around her, and looks up at the leaves swaying gently in the breeze. There's something in this he could get used to, even if the idea of it still raises his hackles. Just touching her, the best parts of last call with a pretty girl without having to start from scratch with the next one. Just none of the sex in between.
(Don't think about that. Not when Kyna can feel whatever longing and lust goes along with imagining getting a hand under her shirt, seeing her back arch--Jesus fucking Christ, Sam, think about famine or kicked puppies or something.)
He swallows. ]
How long d'you think before everyone else catches up to us? If they catch up to us. Maybe the city'll just be a wasteland until everyone over there kicks the bucket.
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He pulls her a little closer, his arm still around her, and looks up at the leaves swaying gently in the breeze. There's something in this he could get used to, even if the idea of it still raises his hackles. Just touching her, the best parts of last call with a pretty girl without having to start from scratch with the next one. Just none of the sex in between.
(Don't think about that. Not when Kyna can feel whatever longing and lust goes along with imagining getting a hand under her shirt, seeing her back arch--Jesus fucking Christ, Sam, think about famine or kicked puppies or something.)
He swallows. ]
How long d'you think before everyone else catches up to us? If they catch up to us. Maybe the city'll just be a wasteland until everyone over there kicks the bucket.