Reagan & Lachlan | Night | Town Circle
Night had settled, and the soft cacophony of crickets and cicadas provided gentle accompaniment to the sounds of revelry that still rose from the heart of Glynn. The Turning festivals were always cause to celebrate, but today there was an additional undercurrent of excitement and joy that set the entire town to thrumming; Glynn was unbound, and no one seemed willing to see the day end.
She caught sight of Lachlan and promptly grabbed an extra cup of cider to accompany the one she was working on, carefully threading herself through the crowd toward him. By this point in the night she was far more disheveled than she typically allowed herself to be, her hair wild and wind-blown where it had slipped from her braid, still scattered with wilting pink blossoms.
She sidled up beside him and playfully bumped his hip with her own to alert him to her presence, tilting her head back to regard him with a wide and toothy smile that bore none of the polite restraint she normally exuded in public settings. "You know I deliberated a very long time about what to get you for your birthday," she told him matter of factly in lieu of a greeting, her voice light and amused. "But then I remembered what a terrible sport you are about gifts and the like, so I came to offer you something even better: A drink, and the grace of my good company. Take this." She held the spare cup up for him to do just that.