She doesn't indulge in smoking often, though, enjoys this method best when Wolfwood is next to her. Otherwise the ashen taste in her mouth becomes acidic with longing.
Did she lo- did she miss Wolfwood like this before she knew what being loved by him felt like, even if the knowledge is a precious hand-me-down? Part of her is certain that yes, part of her says this year of meeting and parting and missing Vash together has done the work of building the castle out of soft logs of yearning, bound to collapse from its own weight, part of her knows that timeline of her feelings about everything has been tampered so thoroughly the answer does not matter.
“Back with me yet?” Wolfwood asks and she slowly turns to him, pauses before blowing the smoke in his face. Breaks into exhaustion powered giggles at his wrinkled nose and cussing she knows the meaning of through the Vash-sourced dictionary in the corner of her mind. Tries not to think about the way the profanities sound when wrung from his lips with pleasure.
(She isn't meant to know that, she is just an accidental voyeur who wishes she could breach time and space and the wall separating them from her, to settle in those memories, make them hers as well.)
#SixSentenceSunday #Stryfewood with a side of #Mashwood