[She doesn't generally find this tolerable, to be touched with so little ability to touch back. At the moment, however, her mind is slow moving and dazed, her anxiety a low murmur that is very easy to ignore. Her lungs fill under his hands, her fingertips catch hold of a lock of his hair and tug lightly. As much as she's annoyed to have been drinking, she likes the sticky taste it's left, tilting her head farther back to pursue it in him.
She knows she isn't virulent, but she remembers what it was like when she was. The only way Barbet would let her mouth this close was after dousing her with chemicals first. Then he would always act like he didn't understand how he made her feel so humiliated, why she was desperate for any affection that didn't come predicated by his work.]
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She knows she isn't virulent, but she remembers what it was like when she was. The only way Barbet would let her mouth this close was after dousing her with chemicals first. Then he would always act like he didn't understand how he made her feel so humiliated, why she was desperate for any affection that didn't come predicated by his work.]