They hold onto her for about ninety seconds before it's too much and they have to let go and scoot back, hard against the arm of the ratty little couch. Their expression is pained and apologetic all at once. "Sorry. That's. Let's. Do something. Laundry. You had laundry?" There's a pile of clothes by the door, which had thankfully drifted shut through their little emotion-fest so there's no one peering in from one of the other suites.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2020-05-14 06:47 pm (UTC)