Stavanger Bay with flowers in the sunshine

even though she stonily looked ahead, sandpiper could see raptor's dark visage swim in her peripherals. he leaned in, attempting to catch her attention. sandpiper would have none of it, and childishly looked further down the beach and away from his pressing presence. she caught the wrinkled confusion on his brow and it only entrenched her further.

if a wolf could cross her arms (and/or her legs), sandpiper would have been that terrifying vision of a thin woman sitting in a chair, arms crossed with one slender hand lifted to her sharp face as she drew from the hellish orange end of a cigarette. her eyes cross, her lips pursed. raptor was lucky she was just a wolf, otherwise she would have flicked the burning embers in his eyes and stormed off on slick red heels.

"too cocky." she answered coolly, still staring down the beach. of course he would like her -- and sandpiper worked herself up into a hysteric fit thinking of rosalyn oozing around raptor like the corpulent tendril of a jellyfish.