"…What are you… what is this?... Why now of all times…" Sophia's questions came in bulk. She was crouching next to me, her hazel eyes shone, and I wanted to touch her pretty face, so I did.
That was the choice she made. She wanted to be with me.
I was laying on my stomach on a lounge chair at the only tattoo shop in Anchorage owned and managed by a bunch of creative werewolves who liked experimenting with silver and wolfbane.
"This is the last time you see the outside world in what might be a long time. Are you sure you don't want to be hanging out by the window over there instead of this?" I picked up our joined hands intertwined by our fingers for demonstration. She just refused to let go.
"It wasn't without pain when I did it," she confessed.
She kept comparing our strengths that didn't belong on one scale with each other.
