Something that he should have enjoyed, perhaps, but something that he barely remembers. Or, perhaps, things he remembers and tries to forget. The stench of rotting flesh isn't an odor that leaves him, no, it returns in the evenings sometimes before he's had another drink.
And yet the feeling of her bare skin against his own is enough to make him hot at the collar, and so he does a bold thing:]
I'd rather feel you.
[He pulls Celty close to himself, wrapping an arm around her waist. Sakamoto doesn't care whether they're the center of attention or not, as the people around them aren of little importance to him at the moment.]
no subject
[Youth.
Something that he should have enjoyed, perhaps, but something that he barely remembers. Or, perhaps, things he remembers and tries to forget. The stench of rotting flesh isn't an odor that leaves him, no, it returns in the evenings sometimes before he's had another drink.
And yet the feeling of her bare skin against his own is enough to make him hot at the collar, and so he does a bold thing:]
I'd rather feel you.
[He pulls Celty close to himself, wrapping an arm around her waist. Sakamoto doesn't care whether they're the center of attention or not, as the people around them aren of little importance to him at the moment.]