Who: Kitty and Pete Where: Her bedroom (ZOMG SCANDAL) What: The truth comes out When: Tuesday night Rating: I don't know, R for swearing and making out? Warning if you think twenty is too old to make autonomous decisions of a sexual and/or romantic nature.
As they walked down the hall from the common room towards her room, Kitty drew her sweater more closely around herself. It was long enough to cover up even a short dress, if she'd been wearing one, and it functioned as an attractive alternative to wearing a bathrobe over yoga clothes in the dead of winter. The grey softness was a product of years of gentle wear and it comforted her that it smelled unequivocally of her--vanilla shampoo, a faint hint of perfume, lavender detergent. Not Pete-ish at all.
"I hope you're holding up okay," She had braced herself too much to actually ask him, all she offered was the statement. Kitty hoped but didn't seem terrifically worried, even if Pete knew her well enough to construe her previous offers of a tour and a bit of businesslike socializing as peace offerings. Peace, that's all she wanted--to be at peace with him. But even that wasn't strictly true and that feeling plagued her most of all--that her logical mind was out of touch with, loathe though she was to even think it, her heart.