Re: Log: Griffin & Mars
Smiles from Griffin were few and far in between, and Mars was the main recipient of them on any given day. There was one then, crooked, a little misshapen, but a smile nonetheless.
Quite. Thank you.
The book was abandoned in favor of her wakeful compay, and after finishing his glass of juice and putting the empty glass on the nightstand beside her plate, Griffin hauled his ass up to sit on the bed beside her. He was dressed in his normal fashion when at home, tank top, sweat pants, comfort over any sense of fashion. It was a contrast to how he dressed in public, long sleeves, high collars, hooded sweatshirts, long pants. Anything to keep covered, to keep questioning eyes and murmured whispers from being directed his way. He was a mess of scars, of skin in several different shades, and his back was a massive burn scar from the accident so many years prior. None of them particularly bothered him, but home was one of the few places he could relax and not be so constricted.
Eat your eggs. Protein. You need it. It was said as he flopped backwards, over her legs, then rolled onto his side, draped over the foot of the bed with legs pulled up and bent at the knee. Sleep well?