Oliver. King. (

cyprian) wrote in

"Dorian Gray," Trenton answered, immediate and honest. He'd been nothing but truthful with Isobel, about the most horrible aspects of himself, there was no reason to slow the tsunami now.

He didn't look at her when he said it, it was a casual admission. His attention sharpened on the street, the population of cars and stragglers was dwindling, it should be morning soon. "He can be pretty hilarious.."

His city boy drawl went nonchalant, and it matched his shrug when he dug another forkful of pie. But this time, he held it across the table, toward her in offering.

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