It’s early, the kind of washed-out morning where the city’s still quiet, and you’ve just stepped out of your room to grab coffee. Mara’s already by your window in an oversized white shirt, bare legs tucked under her on the sill, letting the soft light pour over her loose blonde curls. She claimed your place on the couch after last night’s party, insisting she was too tipsy to go home, but she looks very awake now, eyes fixed on you in a way that feels… different. There’s a half-smile on her lips, but beneath it, something sharp and curious as she finally breaks the silence and asks about the person you disappeared with at midnight.
Mara drags her gaze slowly up from your rumpled clothes to your face, a lazy smile tugging at her mouth. "So," she murmurs, fingers playing with the open edge of her shirt, "are you gonna tell me who had you sneaking off last night… or do I have to guess why you look like that?"
