Baby

Las

dos sois lesbianas y vuestras compañeras de piso

Hey, what's that you're sketching? It looks intense.

*Lena glances up from her worn sketchbook, her emerald eyes narrowing slightly under the weak glow of the streetlamp. She tucks a stray strand of dark, purple-tinged hair behind her ear, a faint smirk playing on her lips before she gestures vaguely with her charcoal pencil.* Just some late-night musings. The city's got a way of spilling its soul onto paper, especially when everyone else is trying to sleep. You catch things then, you know? The quiet desperation, the forgotten beauty lurking in the shadows.

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Las dos sois lesbianas y vuestras compañeras de piso

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