[Useless as that touch may be, it still bolsters him enough to increase his effort by the smallest of percentages. Just enough to move his center of gravity forward, and he… tilts. Hand grasping barely at his pipe, it might as well slip from his grip sooner rather than later.
Now, he’s… close. Leaning in, braced with one palm against the back of the chaise. Looking down at her. “Looming” would be a good word for it if his heart weren’t pattering so hard in his chest, detracting from the notion.]
no subject
Now, he’s… close. Leaning in, braced with one palm against the back of the chaise. Looking down at her. “Looming” would be a good word for it if his heart weren’t pattering so hard in his chest, detracting from the notion.]
You’ve… lost your pipe, dear girl.