will
she/her
twenty-nine
november 12
rustboro
heterosexual
horticulturist
civilian
we sewed all the holes we had to breathe
TAG WITH @willow
willow atkins
pie [m]
POSTED ON Nov 27, 2021 0:09:47 GMT
oh. she poked at things she shouldn't have. this reply is short, is blunt, and it hits her that most of hoenn's rangers and officers have seen some shit, just by proxy of being in hoenn. she's probably one of the only people to not have been directly affected by the war around her. (if anything, the growth in her clientele can thank the ravages on hoenn's society.) a sour thought, that one, but she shakes it off. "sorry. i - well, i live kind of like a hermit up here and sometimes i forget about...yeah." she frowns, reaches out to tentatively put a hand over his. she tries to match his smile. "i'm glad you did too."it gets quiet. her mind races as the silence lapses. she realizes her hand is still on his. she also remembers something just as she realizes that. so she jumps up, accidentally bumps the table with her hip and grunts, cheeks going red as she saunters around him. "i, uh, got you something. after you said you hate being stuck in an office. i thought it might spruce it up a bit, bring a little bit of the outside in." she reaches up on top of the fridge (where Roman Maher can't reach) and grabs the pot of morning glory she'd covered with a cloth napkin. with most of her blush gone, she turns and goes back to the table, holding out to him like it's the most important thing in the world. because it is, really, but he doesn't know that.
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