Oop

Three shots of vodka later, and she’s feeling forklift certified again.

Not even out of bed yet and she’s had some vodka.

No, nobody else in the barracks can have any.

|| Literally less than a second after I posted. My own post wasn’t even on the TL yet.

I’m going to commit a crime

Lil’ gremlin, lugging around a bag of vodka bottles.

“OW —”

Admittedly, being pulled over some sharp, now hot metal isn’t very comfortably.

But she’s out now.

Holding her hands out of the smoldering wreckage.

She can’t climb out.

She’s short.

And a little brain damaged.

When has she ever denied being a dumbass?

She is doing her best to get out of the forklift.

It isn’t very easy when it is both on its side and burning a little.

The

Forklift

Is

On

Fire

Crashing a forklift right down some stairs.

Slipping, sliding, launching head-first into the reader’s knee.

If money doesn’t make you happy, give me your money

Finding the first napping person to draw inappropriate doodles on their face.

If money doesn’t make you happy, give me your money

Definitely not pickpocketing the reader. She would never.

some smart comment. Suddenly, she was having a very difficult time remembering what the words had been. And so, rather than fumble her words for a few seconds, Tora just kissed him again.

Following the third kiss, Tora lifted her free hand and set her index finger on the side of Gallagher’s chin. She prompted him gently to center himself with her again, and then she returned his affection with a quick kiss to his lips.

There was something she had wanted to say. Another tease, or —

getting even closer. She wanted to, and she was impulsive enough where she might just close that distance entirely. For a few moments longer, however, she just wanted to see what Gallagher would do.

“Well, so long as we’re both in agreement.” And she was right back to a teasing tone, and her attempts to suppress a smirk finally failed completely. In the past few seconds, the shade of red had darkened by a few shades, and it had not been because of the port.

She lingered close, contemplating —

reaction the accuracy of my imagination?”

she tried to contain, and her tone of voice, suggested she was making an attempt to continue playing coy. The look in her eyes, however, was unmistakable. Her lips parted as though to speak, but she remained silent a moment as she collected her words. “Or would it not be more fun to judge by my —

Although her glass was still half full, Gallagher had managed to convince Tora to set the distraction down so she could properly focus on him. “You want to hear my guesses?”

Uncrossing her legs, she set her free hand on the floor between the two of them and leaned forward a few inches. The smirk —

behind a short sip of port.

growing grin, which remained anyways despite her efforts, Tora took a short breath and then answered.

“Well, to expand upon the last thought,” she half cooed, half slurred, “I was putting a lot of thought into picturing the rest of you.”

Following her answer, she again lifted her glass and hid —

By that point in the evening, it would take a substantial amount of biting her lip or hiding behind her glass to maintain a filter. Of course she tried both when the subject returned to her roaming thoughts, but she did not achieve any notable levels of success. Following a sip meant to hide a —

from the glass. As she sipped her port, she took notice of Gallagher’s moving hand. Her free hand soon moved to meet his.

without saying she would be hungover in the morning, and she had already resigned herself to her fate.

With her final glass poured, she lifted it to her lips — but she waited a moment. It was one final subconscious effort to be responsible. Of course, a moment later she was right back to sipping —

It was a good thing the bottle was finally finished off. All of the attempts to pace herself could not cancel out the sheer quantity of alcohol already in her system. Her temples still pounded in a desperate reminder to drink some water — and of course she was still ignoring the warning. It went —

was succeeding in warming her, which was a pleasant feeling. It was almost like the whiskey in that sense, just without the burn she was not fond of. As a result of both the warming effect and probably too much alcohol in her system, the flush on her face had spread as a lighter shade to her neck.