quick: carver & destiny in the kitchen
[She could probably be heard before she was seen. Nimble was not a known concept to Destiny, who was humming a Nirvana song way more cheerfully than any Nirvana song desired to be hummed. Floorboards squeaked in time with the humming. She was probably dancing up until the moment that she materialized through a doorway and into the kitchen.
She had on jeans and a tank top of faded blue stripes. Her socks were capped at the ankle with hot pink pom poms that volunteered to bounce for her when she wound down to less impressive walking across the kitchen floor.
There was a guy at the fridge. Carver, she assumed, since it wasn't Michael. Destiny jutted in close, intimate-friendly, with her hip against the counter and her head tilted so that she could read his face.]