Reagan & Lachlan | Night | Town Circle
Lachlan had barely gone a moment without a cup of cider in hand when he blinked and another materialised before him, accompanied by a beaming Reagan Shrike. Experience had taught him that his friend only showed such unrestrained emotion when drink had made her merry, and he accepted the cup with a grin.
"The grace of your good company," Lachlan repeated, as if he wasn't quite convinced of the fact when in reality her company was one he dearly treasured. Under the guise of fixing the flyaway strands or Reagan's hair, Lachlan brushed his fingertips in a semi circle from her temple to a spot just behind her ear. Those wilting pink blossoms were suddenly fresh and bright, and would last her the rest of the night. Beauty was transient, but the night had such magesty that he didn't think the gods would mind this little extension of it.
Knowing Reagan would not let up until he drank, Lachlan took a sip of cider. "I have barely seen you all day. You would be proud, I don't think I've upset anyone once." Whether she believed that or not was another thing entirely.