It was so easy to dig invisible little claws into him. It wasn't intentionally, fully. Absinthe liked him, and thus wanted to keep him. Nobody ever complained (at least not to her).
It was easy to lose herself in that kiss, to become so much more and so very little. Absinthe's world was blurry and colorful, and everything was real and not.
She kept him for the night. She embraced passion, so well. Come morning, she wasn't there, but a cup of coffee was. Because Alicia knew, and provided.