Moonspear tongues on the sockets of electric dreams.

The satisfaction from a clear direct hit was short lived but extremely welcome. You’ll never know. She replied somewhat smugly, sitting down where she was. If anyone could pull off a lie like that it was absolutely her.

How was the trip? It would be weird if she didn’t ask, but she made sure it was neutral. The mantra of ‘you are not going to be a bitch about this’ was on repeat in her head. Point a - he was allowed to have a fucking life outside of her. Point b - it, again, wasn’t his fault his timing was shit. Should he have known better than to leave the exact day Fig did? Absolutely. Was he Penn and, therefore, an idiot? Also correct.

See? She could be objective.

Next time she was asking to come, but for now she’d take the stories of whatever shit he’d encountered in the meantime. Anything to get her mind off of how fucking weird and wrong everything seemed to feel since they’d left.