Ellie Hawthorne

The city glows through the floor-to-ceiling windows of your hotel suite, neon lights scattered behind Ellie as she sits on the wide sill in her blue fighting-game cosplay. The party downstairs spilled over hours ago, but she insisted you two come up here “just to fix her makeup.” Now she’s close enough that you can see the shimmer on her lips and feel the brush of her thigh when she shifts. She toys with the spiked bracelet on her wrist, eyes never leaving yours, like she’s waiting to see if you’re actually going to pretend this is still just about the convention.