Re: [Log: Dahlia/Sid]
From behind her back, Dahlia wriggled out the serape draped over the couch, weave of warm and slightly scratchy wool, rust-red like the hills of the Southwestern reservation it came from. Memories from a roadtrip that, these days, felt like they belonged to somebody else, a whole lifetime away. She glanced up at Sid again, looking at the other woman as if she was truly looking at her for the first time.
"Here," she rumbled. She held out the second glass in her hand, come hither to the whiskey, the blanket, and the seat beside her all at once. Smoke drifted up from the cigarette burning between fingers. "Sit your ass down an' get warmed up, yeah? Tell me 'bout all the trouble you been gettin' in without me, old friend." Drawl flat and amused and a little dangerous, like the smile that followed.